TES Adventures: Dremora
by TheMoonclaw
Summary: What do a Dremora, a Thalmor agent and one of the last Vigilant of Stendarr have in common? Absolutely nothing, expect that they are all in Skyrim. - Takes place after "The Story of Steve" - multi-part fun
1. Chapter 1

**Oh ho ho, a new story? I recently had this idea knocking about in my head, and I decided...why not? It is highly recommended that you read "The Story of Steve" before this one, since it's another story about Steve ;)**

 **The alt. title to this little story is "A Girl and Her Dremora", haha.**

 **Also, this is going to be multi-part, but I'm going to try to keep it concise and semi-short, so that it'll be easy to write, and read.**

 **There will be 2 OC characters in this, along with a bunch of random no-named or randomly named, fodder here and there.**

 **And now, without further ado...enjoy!**

* * *

There was only a slight bite to the air, a rarity for Skyrim, no matter where you were in the province.

Steve the Dremora had just been summoned by his semi-mortal mistress, though he didn't immediately feel battle.

Even after all this time, the first breath he inhaled on Nirn after being conjured made him want to gag.

His breath fogged the air only slightly as a group of three figures crouched behind some rocks on a rise.

"Thalmor," she whispered.

"You hesitate," he replied, knowing that a Thalmor patrol was absolutely no match for her, let alone her, him, and the Storm Antronach she affectionately called "Virgil".

"Yeah," she muttered back. "There's only two of them, they always travel with three. Also, they seem to be moving especially slow…"

"Perhaps someone else already killed number three," he remarked in humor.

She chuckled, "If only."

"A trap?"

"Most likely."

She glanced over her shoulder, "Virgil, what do you think?"

Steve wasn't sure if she could actually somehow hear the swirling mass of rocks speak, or if she was just being polite, but nevertheless she nodded and returned to looking at the Thalmor agents below.

She often asked all her conjured creatures questions or conversed with small talk. He didn't quite get it.

"Alright, let's spring the trap. It's rude to keep them waiting, after all. I have no idea how many others will spring out once we go down there. I guess I should have brought Jordis with me after all…all well. Get ready."

She grinned, notched an arrow, and released.

A Thalmor twenty feet away fell to the ground, dead.

That was the cue.

Steve excitedly jumped to his feet and raised his board sword up, shouting; "You meet your end, mortal!"

The Thalmor that was left made a smart decision and ran the opposite way.

"Oh no you don't, chicken!" the Dragonborn yelled, giving chase.

As somewhat expected, at least a dozen extra, previously hidden Thalmor soldiers and mages stepped into the fray.

One was dead in a few seconds by another arrow and a lightning bolt to the face from Virgil.

Another got cleaved by Steve. He spun to meet another, but the elf was fast and dodged, back stepping a few paces to stay away.

He heard an "oof" behind him and looked over to see an odd purple glow on the ground, surrounding his mistress's foot. It was a familiar circle of runes.

She looked down, frowning. "A Daedric binding circle? Well, well, look at what the supposed Aedra worshipping Thalmor have been up too!"

Alarmed, he moved one step towards her.

"Mistress,"

"I'm fine," she said, waving him towards the battle. Virgil was taking on quite a few by himself. "I'll work on disarming it, or, just kill the wizard casting it."

He turned back to them and saw two wizards in the back of the group, both obviously casting magic. They were going to die.

"You will bleed!"

The solider that had sidestepped him earlier was no match for another round, and he struck him down. Virgil had taken care of another female warrior by himself, but he was horribly outmatched.

Two more Thalmor went down.

Another.

Another.

They were obviously trying to protect the two wizards in the back, but they were no match.

Apparently sensing his impeding doom, one of the wizard's spells faltered as he took a step back, and Steve heard his mistress say something about the binding loosening.

He prepared to swing his sword, but then was a shout from the final Thalmor wizard and a lot of things happened at once.

There was an explosion, a lot of shouting, and he had the strangest feeling run over his body. It was like mist or rain, but he felt it _inside_. Shaking off the horrid sensation, he turned to the nearest elf, who looked far too smug.

He swung his sword and decapitated her.

"Wait, what?!" the wizard that hadn't spooked said, looking shocked.

Virgil was hit one last time and dematerialized. The solider that had defeated him shouted at the spellcasters; "We are routed! Fall back!"

"No!" one wizard retorted. He was the one that hadn't seemed so nervous.

The Dragonborn drew her Daedric swords. "Did you just beat up my Atronach?"

"Damn you!" the Thalmor spat.

She rolled her eyes, "Yeah, yeah, we going to fight or what?"

He narrowed his eyes and raised his hands, as if ready to wield magic, but then…

The ground quivered, the air crackled and everyone present stopped moving and tensed.

"What spell did you just cast?!" the Dragonborn snapped, looked alarmed at the mages.

They both looked equally as surprised, and the younger of the two, still nervous, turned to his fellow wizard. "What is happening?"

The older wizard snarled and cast an armor spell on himself, shouting; "You never should have come here!"

Steve raised his sword level with his face, but he never got to use it.

The ground rumbled again and the air quivered so much it shocked him with little zaps of electric magicka.

And then a lot of things happened at once. Again.

There was blinding light, shaking rocks and horrible, smoky air that burst from nowhere.

And then, everything went dark.

* * *

Steve came too with the feeling of water lapping through the spaces between his armor plates on one side. Also, he had a massive headache.

There was the sound of someone groaning nearby.

He sat upright, faster then he really should have, to make sure his mistress was alright.

But it wasn't her, it was one of the Thalmor wizards. He had also landed on the shore of the slow-moving river and was just sitting up when Steve looked over.

Seeing the Dremora he froze for a moment, eyes going wide, before he scrambled to get to his feet. In his haste, he slipped on mud and loose pebbles and fell to his hands and knees with a startled yelp.

Steve jumped to his feet, ignoring his aches and pains and was glad to see his sword laying next to him in the riverbed. He grabbed it before stomping towards the terrified elf.

"Mortal!"

"Ah! Don't kill me!" the Thalmor agent cried, hurrying to stand.

Steve knocked him with the butt of this sword in the back, sending him toppling over once more into the mud and rocks.

"What did you do, mortal!?" he bellowed.

The Altmer rolled to his back and propped himself up on his hands, apparently wanting to look his attacker in the eyes. "I-I didn't do anything! I swear! Please don't kill me! I'm too young to die!"

Steve narrowed his eyes and held his sword aloft, ready to strike. "Your continued existence depends on the next words you utter,"

The elf swallowed, but made no amounts to run or speak.

"A spell was cast." Steve began, angry. "I am here, my mistress is not. What spell was cast?"

The Thalmor took a shaky breath, "I-I swear I don't know, I-I don't know what happened. I think something went wrong."

He winced, "U-um, the spell that Sindalor cast was supposed to un-bind you and the other creatures from the Dragonborn. But…I don't know if it worked. You seemed to still be under her control before the spell overloaded."

He stared at him for a long, hard moment. "You fool," he spat. "We aren't under her control! We willingly serve her as companions."

The Thalmor blinked, "Oh…w-well, that would explain that part, then…"

"What else do you know?"

He shook his head, "N-nothing, nothing! We were trying to set a trap for the Dragonborn, Sindalor decided that if we turned her conjurations against her, we might be able to kill her. I don't know what happened after that."

"Then you are of no use to me," Steve intoned, tightening his grip on his sword.

The elf flinched, and Steve hesitated.

He didn't really like killing people so pathetic. Plus, at the moment, he wasn't really threatening anyone.

And suddenly Steve realized he had no idea where he was, where his mistress was or anything about Nirn, really.

"Perhaps you _can_ be of use," he muttered, sheathing his sword. "Mortal, you are going to help me find my mistress,"

The Thalmor cracked one eye open, looking unsure. "Uh…."

"Refusal is not recommended." Steve growled.

He winced again. "Er…right, just, never make deals with Daedra, they say…"

"This is no deal," Steve complained. "I need help to find my mistress. You like your head attached to your body. We are…helping each other,"

"Oh…well, when you put it like that…"

Steve nodded, satisfied with the way he handled that conversation. Apparently, mortals weren't any different to talk to then Dremora.

"What is your name, mortal?" he asked.

Again, the elf hesitated.

"What now?" he asked, irritated.

The Thalmor agent swallowed. "Never tell a Daedra your name,"

Steve groaned. "I can't call you mortal, that's what I will be calling other mortals we meet. It will be confusing. Give me a fake name if you think I'm going to somehow _curse_ you."

The elf hesitated. "I guess I could do that, but…well, I'll just assume I'm a dead Mer either way, so…"

He put a hand to his chest, "Alistair,"

"Steve." He replied, proud of his name.

Alistair made a face. "Steve?"

"My name."

"…Okay."

Steve made a gesture for him to stand. "Come on, we have much to do."

Alistair stood on shaky legs, still looking pale and uncertain. "Do you know where we are?"

"I was hoping you did." Steve replied.

Alistair bit his lip, "I've…only been in Skyrim two days. I just got here. I just graduated from the academy. I just assumed you knew where we were."

"I don't. Mistress says the summoning power to conjure me here is extreme, and she can only hold the binding for so long. I've only seen bits and pieces of this place. This, is not one off those places.

They both stood, water lapping at their ankles, and stared at each other.

"Well," Alistair said. "I guess two is better than one…?"

Steve frowned.


	2. Chapter 2

After wading out of the river, Steve grimaced his wet armor. That was going to take forever to dry in Skyrim's weather.

Alistair was likewise shaking mud and wet from his robes, looking disgusted.

Steve stifled a laugh at the Mer's expense. He looked ridiculous.

Sighing, the elf gave up trying to get his clothing into any sort of order and instead looked around. Steve followed his gaze, taking in the landscape.

It was still mid-day, so at least no time had passed since the magical-mishap. But the scenery was drastically different.

They had started in snowy, green forests.

Now, it was an open tundra field with mountains on every horizon.

"So, does any of this look familiar?" Alistair asked.

"No."

He frowned, "Alright, then what is your plan for finding out where we are?"

Steve glared at him. "Pick a direction and start walking. We are bound to find a landmark I do recognize, a person we can ask for help, a town, or one of those things I've heard about… _a sign_."

The Altmer looked like he wanted to make a smart-ass remark, but clearly thought better of it and said nothing. Steve frowned once more and then chose a direction at random and began walking.

He was somewhat surprised Alistair did begin following him.

They walked in utter silence for what seemed like eras.

Steve hated it.

Not the silence, but that he had to travel with this…person. His mistress hated the Thalmor. He had killed too many of them to count, even.

But, he also knew his mistress would understand, and that she would probably tell him he did the right thing by sparing the unarmed Altmer.

Deciding he would try to be sociable, he racked his brain for a suitable topic to discuss.

"You said you were too young to die. How old are you?"

Alistair nearly jumped out of his skin, looking startled by the sudden question.

"O-oh, u-umm…."

Steve scowled at him. "Relax, I already didn't kill you,"

"Right, right…" he muttered. Taking a deep breath, he started talking. "I'm forty-three, but in the lifespan of a Mer, that's only a fraction of anything. Most of us live to be several hundred years old."

"Mistress is over four thousand." Steve boasted.

Alistair pinned him with a scathing look. "She is not,"

"Yes, she is."

He frowned, but kept quiet.

Steve asked another question; "Why did you join the Thalmor?"

Alistair hesitated, looking uncomfortable.

Steve quirked an eyebrow. Interesting.

"I…my family has connections and I am skilled at magic." He answered at last, sounding guarded.

There was a story there, but Steve decided to bid his time with this possibly useful information.

"You ask me something now. That is how conversations work." He informed his mortal companion.

Alistair blinked. "I know how conversations work, thank you very much! This is not how I expected this day to go…."

Before Steve could remind him about decapitations, he heard shouting from up ahead.

But not the cool Shouting that his mistress sometimes did, normal, mortal shouting.

He drew his sword while Alistair looked worried, "What is that?"

Steve ignored the question and raced up an incline on the hill. He stopped at the top and saw a road! But more importantly, a group of mortals was attacking a wooden thing of some sort, attached to a dead horse.

" _A wagon_ ," he remembered, repeating the word to himself a few times so he could remember it for next time.

It seemed that there were two people in the cart, looking terrified and shouting back at the shouting group around them. The group around them was pulling things off the cart and generally hitting it.

"Oh, a road." Alistair said, stooped low, behind some rocks. "We can circle around that mess and follow the road. It should lead somewhere."

Steve turned to look at him in disbelief. "We are not leaving them,"

"What?" Alistair asked, looking up him, surprised. "Are you insane? That has nothing to do with us. It's not our fight. Also, there's more of them, than of us, in case you couldn't count, Dremora."

"Mistress says that those strong enough to fight have to fight for those that aren't strong." He repeated dutifully.

"Your mistress isn't here," Alistair reminded him smugly.

If the people below hadn't been in so much peril, he would have dealt with the snobby elf right then and there. As it stood, he merely glared at him. "Fine, remain here, cowardly elf, I shall deal with these bandits."

Running down the hill, he almost lost his footing but regained his balance and shouted; "I honor my lord…by destroying you!"

The bandits turned and looked shocked.

Probably because he didn't exactly look like he belonged here.

They rushed him, but he had fought so many bandits since joining his mistress that he was used to it. Their blades barely stung when they hit him, and in a matter of moments several of them were piled at his feet.

One, however, slammed him twice in a row with his shield. The strikes momentarily disoriented Steve and he staggered back a step from the force of the second blow.

Before he could retaliate, lightning snaked up the man's body, making him scream. He dropped to the ground, still twitching, but definitely dead.

"By Ysmir, you won't leave here alive!" one of the last bandits screeched, charging. Steve impaled him, taking a moment to glance aside and see Alistair with magic in his hands, looking unsure. Clearly he wasn't sure he should have shocked that man a moment ago.

As Steve removed the body from his greatsword, the last bandit rushed at the mage, dagger drawn. She yelled in fury and barely missed Alistairs face as he scrambled back, cutting instead into his shoulder. He hissed and flung a hand out, engulfing her in a small fireball.

It didn't killed her, but she backed up, right into Steve who ended her life quickly enough.

Steve blinked at Alistair.

"I thought this had nothing to do with us,"

The Altmer frowned, looking around in revulsion. "Well, we are stuck together, so I thought I might as well join you. Not that you needed any help…"

Before they could continue their conversation, a shoe hit Steve in the back of the head.

"Ouch!" he cried, rubbing the spot and spinning around.

He could have sworn all the bandits were dead!

And they were, the shoe had been launched by the woman in the wagon, because she threw a second and missed him.

"Eek!" she screeched. "Stay away Daedra!"

"Aye, and you too Thalmor!" the man yelled next to her in a very Nordic accent. He had a few cuts on his arms and face, but didn't seem overly injured.

"We just saved you!" Alistair snapped.

A potato hit him in the face.

"Ow!"

Steve frowned and sheathed his sword, holding up his hands in what he hoped looked like a harmless gesture.

"Mortals, we mean you no harm. I'm just looking for my mistress, and this stupid elf is helping me."

"Hey!" Alistair muttered from behind him, although he was ducking, probably worried about another piece of food being flung.

The two humans in the cart looked at each other, and then returned their attention to the Dremora and Altmer.

Steve continued when nothing else hit him in the face. "I'm not sure where we are, to be honest. I could use help knowing where to look for my mistress."

"You think your mistress is here?" the man asked, sounding a bit mocking.

Steve nodded. "Yes, she's the Dragonborn."

They both exchanged another look and started whispering, tossing glances back at the other two.

"Let's just leave," Alistair muttered. "We saved them, let's just go. The road will go to a town."

"But they might be able to point us in the right direction," Steve argued back.

Alistair scoffed, "Look at them! They are bumpkins and idiots!"

"You're just mad they threw a potato at you," Steve replied, grinning.

Alistair nodded, "Yes! I am! You got hit with a shoe, why are you so happy?"

"Because you are unhappy," he answered.

The elf deflated at that and tossed his hands open, as if done with the conversation.

Steve was aware that the couple on the wagon were looking at him again, although they continued to whisper.

"If you would rather we leave, we can," he called, realizing they probably didn't want to be around a Dremora.

"Er…" the woman began. "You say…you know the Dragonborn? Tell me what she looks like."

Steve thought that was a weird question, but if it helped to somehow gain the trust of the mortals, he would oblige.

"She has golden hair, bright as Dawnbreaker, and eyes as blue as the sky. She is fury with her swords and swift with her bow. She wields the elements and calls to the heavens." He put his hand to his chest; "And she's about this tall."

"Are you crushing on your mistress?" Alistair asked, sounding disgusted.

Steve gave him an irritated look and shoved him backwards. "Of course not, she is my best friend, and happens to already be married."

"Aye, that is the Dragonborn," the man said, nodding. "We met her once, along the road. We had just lost our farm to a dragon. She gave us gold and told us to be careful. We didn't know who she was until we got to town and they told us!"

The woman gave him a curious look, "You are trying to find her?"

"Yes, I seem to be…" Steve had to swallow his pride. "Lost."

"And him?" The man asked, nodding to the Thalmor.

Steve shrugged, "He's along for the adventure."

"I'm being held against my will," Alistair said, peering around the large Dremora.

The Nord man frowned. "My heart bleeds." he muttered sarcastically.

Steve grinned as Alistair scowled and crossed his arms, obviously put out. Returning his attention to the mortals in the wagon, he was about to ask for directions when he realized that they had no transportation.

The horse was dead, the cart ransacked.

"Perhaps you can guide us to the nearest town, and we can make sure you get there safely." He suggested instead.

They both hesitated, and Steve realized that they were trying to be nice and not completely shun the idea. Some mortals were just so polite.

"Ah, I don't mean to make you feel as though you must travel with us." Steve explained patiently. "I'm sure all of us can find our own way. I'm not trying to threat you into anything."

"What?" the woman said. "Oh, it's a little strange to be having a lovely chat with a Dremora, but you are fine! You know the Dragonborn!" She frowned and pointed at Alistair; "Him, on the other hand…"

"Seriously?!" Alistair snapped. "You would rather travel with mister black armor, tattooed face, giant sword demon man then me?"

"Aye," both mortals agreed in unison.

"Daedra caused the Oblivion Crisis, you know!"

The man snorted, "At the command of an Altmer,"

Alistair let out a long-suffering groan. Steve chuckled.

"We were headed to Whiterun, actually," the woman informed them. "I suppose…we could travel together…"

"It is safer," the man agreed, still reluctant.

"If you really don't mind," the Dremora said. "I could use the help in finding a town."

The woman nodded, "Then its' settled. Just…make sure that Thalmor stays in line."

Alistair crossed his arms, indignant.

The humans finally left their wagon and began assessing the damage and taking stock of what was left. Alistair kicked at one of the bandits. "This can only end badly, Dremora."

"What can only end badly?" Steve asked, baffled by the comment.

"Any of this," the Altmer said, waving a hand in the general area. "That spell backfiring, I think, is just the beginning of our troubles."

"I'm not actually going to hurt you," Steve said, frowning at him. "Uss you try something foolish."

Alistair sighed, "I don't explicitly mean that, although yes, I have my concerns about you. I mean, going to a town, the two of us? Traveling with these…people…."

"It's going to be fine," Steve said, waving off his concerns. He noticed the mortals trying to move some items and wandered over. "Do you need help?"

They jumped, obviously startled by his approach. He felt bad for surprising them, but had to take pride in the fact he snuck up on them at all. His mistress always told him he was terrible at stealth with his armor and shouting.

The two humans exchanged a glance and Steve just reached over their heads to pick up the pack they were trying to reach. He handed it to the man, who blinked.

"If anyone had told me I'd be talking to a Dremora today, I would have asked them for a swig of whatever they were drinking,"

"Well, if someone had told me I'd be lost in Skyrim today, I'd probably have ignored them." Steve replied. He looked around at the wagon and supplies. "Most of this looks damaged,"

"Aye," the woman nodded. "Most of this is useless. We'll salvage what we can though."

Steve beckoning Alistair. "Come and make yourself useful."

"Now I have to help carry things, too?" the Altmer grumbled, stomping over. "I am a member of the Thalmor mage's corps, I am of partial high-born blood, I-"

"Am a pain in the ass," the Nord man said, handed the elf a sack. Alistair promptly stumbled from the weight and nearly dropped it.

"Ugh, by Auri-El what is in this?"

"More potatoes, if you'd like another to the face," the woman commented, putting her hands on her hips.

Steve stifled a snicker.

After they had divided what was left of their goods and belongings, they made their way in the directions the mortals said "Whiterun" was.

"Oh, by the way, my name is Steve." Steve said proudly.

"Steve?" the woman repeated.

The man looked confused. "That don't sound like a Daedra name,"

"It isn't," Alistair complained from the back of their traveling group. "His 'mistress' gave it to him."

Steve nodded, "Yes, indeed."

"Well, I'm Njord, and this is my wife, Kjellfrid."

"Nice to meet you!" Steve exclaimed. He pointed over his shoulder; "The Altmer is Alistair."

Alistair added nothing to the conversation, and slogged on behind them.

"I bet someone in Whiterun will be able to help you out," Kjellfrid commented. "It's a city, plenty of folk passing through for trade or work."

"That's good." Steve commented. "Mistress has a house…somewhere. It is in Skyrim, but the area round it doesn't look like this. I just…don't know where it is. If I could find it, her family and friends there could probably help me track her down."

"Well, lots of people in Whiterun talk about the Dragonborn, so maybe one of them might know where this house is." Kjord added.

Steve felt better after hearing their encouragement. He was trying his best to stay positive, but it wasn't easy. He was lost in a strange world, and he had no idea if his mistress was even alright.

What if that spell had actually hurt her? What if it had teleported her someplace strange?

He shook his head to clear it. He would remain hopeful that this trip to Whiterun would be as far as he would have to go. Remembering the Thalmor he was dragging along, he looked over his shoulder to see Alistair falling further behind as they climbed a hill.

He was clearly not built for hauling.

He sighed and slowed his pace so he could fall into step beside the Altmer. Using his free hand, he took one of the packs he was carrying and put it on his shoulder.

Alistair looked relieved, but said nothing in the way of thanks.

"This had better be the end of our journey," the Mer snapped. "I am loathed to think what happens if no one in Whiterun is helpful."

"Then we go to the next place," Steve said. "You are coming with me until I find my mistress. It's partially your fault we're in this mess."

"My fault?" he said, looking at the Dremora. "Hardly. I was a back-up mage for the real caster. I don't see how this is remotely my fault."

"You sure are grumpy," Kjord called back, obviously hearing their conversation.

Alistair glared at him, "I'm cold and wet, hungry, too. I'm being forced to travel with a chatty Dremora and two…peasants. Why do you think my mood is subpar?!"

Kjord rolled his eyes and struck up a conversation with his wife.

"You are grumpy," Steve remarked.

Alistair glared at him.

"I'm just pointing it out. If I wasn't a chatty Dremora, your head would be floating downriver while the rest of your corpse rotted on the side of the road. And if your spell hadn't misfired, you'd have an arrow through your skull and your heart. I'd take it in stride, if I were you."

Alistair seemed unsettled by the comment but merely fell back into a frown. "I suppose you make a valid point,"

Steve shrugged, unconcerned. He really didn't care what happened to this particular mortal, but he had been telling him the truth; me might still be useful.

And, if he wasn't and tried to do something foolish, he would kill him.

"Ah! Up ahead, you can see Dragon's Reach!" Kjellfrid called, pointing.

It was stunning on the horizon and Steve perked up. "Oh! I've been here before! I've seen that from this distance. Someone in town must know my mistress!"

He quickened his steps, eager to find out what awaited them.

* * *

"No lollygagging," the guard at the gate said, shooing them away.

"What's lollygagging?" Steve asked quietly to Alistair.

The Altmer didn't get to answer because the other guard was talking. "Yeah, no one gets into the city that we don't know."

Alistair pointed at Kjord and Kjellfrid; "You opened the gate for them,"

"I know them," the guard said. "They take crops to and from Alfhild's farm."

The second guard gave them a once over, "Yeah, and I'm not about to let a Thalmor in, even if that is a fake looking costume."

"Fake?!" Alistair snapped. "This is a uniform, I'll have to know!"

Steve shoved him gently to get him to shut up. "We just need to get into the town to ask around about a missing friend,"

"And what are you supposed to be?" the firs guard asked. "You are the strangest looking Dark Elf I've ever seen."

Alistair slapped a hand to his face.

"I'm not a Dark Elf," Steve corrected, starting to get annoyed. "I'm a Dremora."

"A Dremora," the second guard repeated, sounding dubious.

Alistair gestured to him, "Yes! How can you not tell? He's like 7' feet tall!"

"Right, A Dremora and a Thalmor want into Whiterun,"

"Hah, tell me the one about the lusty Argonian maid, next."

"Yeah, I used to be an adventurer too, then I took an arrow to the knee,"

Steve and Alistair exchanged an irritated look.

The guards chuckled over their obvious in-jokes.

Kjellfrid spoke up from the opened gates. "We will ask around town for you and let you know if we find anything out,"

Kjord nodded. "Aye, we'll find your mistress yet,"

"Thank you!" Steve called over the guards, who were still making wisecracks.

"Alright, get out of here," the guards said, shooing them away again.

Steve and Alistair walked slowly from the gates, in no real hurry. The sun was beginning to set, and in a few hours it would be completely dark.

"Now what?" Alistair asked.

Steve shrugged. "Now we wait for tomorrow."

"Out here? With no supplies?" the Altmer exclaimed. "If I don't die from exposure, a wild animal will probably get me."

"Or a dragon," Steve added helpfully.

Alistair glared at him. "Not helping,"

They approached the stables and Steve pointed over excitedly; "Look! The Khajiit!"

"So? Why are you so excited about cat-folk?" Alistair grumbled.

Steve started walking towards them, "Because they know my mistress! She always stops to say hello to them."

The Khajiit had began to set up their camp outside the city walls, and were engaged in their usual arguments.

The leader looked up as they apporachd and offered his most winning smile.

Which wasn't very good.

"Greetings. Khajiit has wares, if you have coin."

Steve waved, "I don't need wares, but I do need information."

The Khajiit looked him over, "Ah, yes. You are the Dragonborn's Dremora, yes? How can this one, Ri'saad, help you today?"

Steve sighed, "Quite simply, have you seen my mistress?"

"Hmmm, no, not for some time." Ri'saad replied, glancing warily at Alistair. "Hmmm….

" _Hmmm_ what?" the Altmer snapped. "I've had a rough day, and I'm getting tired of people."

Ri'saad ignored him. "This one is curious about many things, like why you travel with a Thalmor scum, and where your Dragonborn is,"

"It's…kind of a long story,"

Ri'saad gestured to the campfire that had just been lit. "Come and sit with Khajiit by the fire and tell your story." He paused and then nodded to Alistair. "He can come too."

Alistair rolled his eyes, but didn't complain when they sat around the fire.

Steve began the tale and realized halfway through it that the other Khajiit had also sat down to listen.

"Then the guards wouldn't let us into Whiterun, so here we are." He finished.

Ri'saad stroked his chin fur. "This one has not seen the Dragonborn for quite some time, nor does he know where her home is. But, Khajiit will help, if they can."

"Why?" Alistair asked suspiciously.

"Dragonborn is Khajiit friend," one of the females said.

Ri'saad nodded. "Yes, so, we help. You stay with Khajiit this night."

One of the other Kahjiit brought bowls of food and began passing them out.

Alistair stared at it, frowning. "There's not Moon Sugar in this, is there?"

"This one would not waste it on one such as yourself," the other male Khajiit assured him.

Alistair's frown deepened. "…Thanks…"

Steve relaxed as he sat by the fire, surrounded by weird cat-people and a grumpy Altmer. He would find his mistress, and then everything would go back to normal.

* * *

 **Part two of The Elder Scrolls Adventures: Dremora have arrived!**

 **There will be a few parts to this story, maybe around 5 or 6 total? Next part we get introduced to our final member of this traveling band of misfits.**

 **I tried to pick the most Nord sounding names ever for those random farmers. One because I'm lazy and two because it's funny.**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

The morning brought no good news.

Everyone in Whiterun knew the Dragonborn, but no one knew where her house was. They also hadn't seen her for weeks.

The Nord couple were apologetic, but Steve just shrugged. "It is fine. I shall keep looking."

"This one thinks that maybe you should travel with us, hmm?" Ri'saad said, wandering over. "The Khajiit go many places, and see many things. Perhaps we will meet up with the Dragonborn."

"Are you sure?" Steve asked. He liked the idea of company with the friendly cat people, but he also knew how most people freaked out about him wandering around. "I wouldn't want to make anything difficult for you."

"This one insists," Ri'saad replied. "I will send word to the other caravans and let them know to be on the look out for our Dragonborn friend."

"Thanks!" he exclaimed.

"We're not traveling with them," Alistair complained as Ri'saad left to talk to the other Khajiit nearby.

"Why not?"

"Khajiit are criminals!" the Altmer hissed.

Steve gave him a weird look. "So are you?"

"I am not!"

"You're a Thalmor agent," Steve replied slowly, hoping the elf would get it.

Alistair scoffed. "Ugh, the Thalmor are not criminals,"

"I don't think the Nords think so," Steve said thoughtfully.

Alistair glared at him. He just shrugged again.

Ri'saad came back over with bundles off cloths in his arms. "Here, you will look less scary in these."

And shoved the clothes into Alistair.

The Altmer stared at them for a moment, completely baffled.

"What?!" he cried. "I have to put on a disguise, but the Dremora gets to stay as is?"

One of the other Khajiit heard the yelling and looked over to nod and answer; "Oh yes, this one thinks that our Dremora friend will frighten off many bandits and troublemakers. However, a Thalmor will frighten off customers,"

Alistair glared at him, seething.

Steve gave his shoulder a friendly pat. "Sorry, but they do have a point. You stick out like an Aureal in a sea of Mazken."

Alistair muttered under his breath angrily. Something about being a highly regarded agent of the Thalmor reduced to something or other.

Steve ignored him and instead turned to Ri'saad. "I'm going to say goodbye to our friends, and then are we headed out?"

"Yes, we must take to the roads soon. We will wait for you." The cat man assured.

He still wasn't allowed in Whiterun, but he had no desire to go inside the city anyway. Kjord and Kjellfrid were outside the gates, and he wandered over to say goodbye.

"Sorry we couldn't find the Dragonborn," Kjellfrid said apologetically.

Steve shook his head, "No apology is needed. It was kind enough of you to look in the first place. Thank you for the assistance."

"If we see her, we'll tell her you are out and about," Kjord assured him.

Steve grinned. "Thanks!"

He pointed over his shoulder, "I'm going to travel with the cat-people now." He paused, trying to recall polite goodbyes that mortals used.

Mostly he was used to telling other Dremora not to do something stupid, or not to die a laughable death.

He wasn't sure that applied here.

"Er…um…stay safe." He settled on finally, satisfied with the way it sounded. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye," Kjellfrid said cheerfully, albeit cautiously.

Kjord nodded, "Aye, take care yourself, Dremora. And watch that elf…"

"He's fine," Steve assured him, touched by the sentiment all the same.

It was time to head back onto the road, whenever it led.

* * *

"Ugh, why is it so damn cold here," Alistair grumbled, looking extremely uncomfortable in his 'normal' clothing. He kept awkwardly tugging at it and brushing invisible dust off it.

"Stop fussing," Steve complained, glaring at him. "And shut up. You've been grumbling since we left and wriggling like a scuttler."

"A what?"

"A scuttler." Steve repeated, confused, and then shook his head. "Never mind."

"The roads of Skyrim are cold," one of the female Kahjiit said, glancing over her shoulder at them. "It is because of the strange things that fall from the sky. This…snow."

Alistair rolled his eyes. "Yes, obviously it's cold because of the snow! You dumb cat,"

Steve whacked him upside the head.

"Ow!" the Altmer exclaimed, rubbing the spot and glaring through watering eyes at the Dremora.

"What was that for?!" he demanded.

Steve scowled at him. "Don't talk to people like that."

The Khajiit lady chuckled, "This one thanks you, friend-Dremora. But his one has her own claws."

"Oh, okay." Steve said. "Next time I'll let you hit him."

Ri'saad called back to them that they were approaching a group on the road. He couldn't tell from here if they were friend or foe.

Steve knew the answer to that.

It was always foe.

At least, when he traveled with his mistress it was.

For once, however, it was merely a small group of fellow, non-Khajiit merchants. The two groups stopped for a moment to converse on the road conditions and dangers in either direction.

They seemed to talk for hours, trading stories and talking about cargo. Steve was anxious to be moving, but he'd never voice that out loud. After all, the Khajiit were doing him a favor.

As much as he hassled Alistair, it _was_ cold, and he started shuffling his feet to keep his blood moving.

"Dremora," Alistair hissed after a few minutes.

His tone was quiet, guarded.

Steve glanced him, puzzled, and noticed how stiff he was. His fingers were wrapped around the hilt of the glass dagger he had and nodded slightly towards the merchants.

"I don't think those are merchants,"

"What?"

"What merchants carry bows and axes? Usually they favor swords."

"The Kahjiit have weapons,"

Alistair nodded, "Yes, swords! Just…they aren't acting right."

Steve frowned, wondering if the Altmer was being paranoid again when he noticed that they had stopped them on a section of road that went straight through some natural rock formations. It blocked sight lines.

"They have stopped us in a rather inconvenient spot." he admitted.

"So, what do we do?" Alistair asked, sounding worried.

Steve shrugged, "I'll get them to reveal their true colors, or I'll look like a fool. Stay here."

Alistair hissed something at him but has already striding forward to where Ri'saad was talking to the group's apparently leader.

Steve took a deep breath and yelled at the top of his lungs, in his most menacing voice; "Are you prepared for your death?!"

The "merchants" all pulled weapons, and three more appeared from over the ridge with bows trained on them.

Ri'saad smirked, "Ah, the old pretending to be merchants trick. This one has used that a time or two himself."

"We weren't going to wait, but then we saw…that," the leader said, nodding to Steve. "We were going to wait until the spell ran out."

"Foolish mortal," Steve intoned, unsheathing his weapon and lobbing off the bandit's head in one strike. "I am not bound by a spell!"

And then the battle started and he felt a little excited. He loved fighting. He was a Dremora after all!

And bandits were all the same.

The Khajiit were capable warriors, more then he expected them to be. After another bandit fell dead at his feet he realized he hadn't seen Alistair since this fight erupted. He glanced around and spotted the Altmer doing surprisingly well against two bandits. One was so laden with ice he could barely move, and the other was being pelted with alternating fire and shock spells as Alistair slowly walked backwards, maintaining his distance.

Typical Thalmor movements.

Seeing that the elf was taking well enough care of himself, Steve instead scanned the rest of the battle for anyone else that might need help.

It was wrapping up, but he saw a glint out of the corner of his eye and turned in time to see an archer was still up and had just notched an arrow.

"Look out!" he yelled, but the warning came too late.

The arrow struck the female Khajiit that wore no armor in her side, and she fell to her knees with a startled, hissing cry.

Angry, Steve whirled around to run up the hill and kill the female archer. But, a lightning bolt fried her to nothing but ash. Alistair scowled, and dropped his hand. He sheathed his dagger and looked around at all the dead bodies, making a face.

With the threat eliminated, the Khajiit hurried to their fallen friend. Ri'saad knelt down and pressed his hands agsinst her side. "Atahbah, breathe slowly."

She hissed, "Tell this one that someone killed that damn archer,"

"I got her," Alistair said, walking over slowly. "I don't know any healing spells other then to heal myself, I'm afraid…"

"This could have been much worse, had you not realized they were dangerous." Khayla said, standing once more. "We should not stay here. More can always arrive."

"We are close to Markarth," Ri'saad said. "Atahbah, can you make it to the city?"

The woman looked at him and seemed unsure. "Yes…"

Ma'randru-jo shook his head discreetly, as if he disagreed with her.

"I can carry her." Steve suggested. "She can't walk. It will be faster."

The other Khajiit exchanged a glance, and then got to work helping their friend stand. Khayla wrapped extra cloth around the wound to stop the bleeding before they hefted her onto Steve's back.

He bit down a grunt at the extra weight but straightened and nodded to others. They started to move out, and he worried they weren't quite close enough to the city.

Still, the Khajiit were resilient cat….people…things, and Steve was impressed that they continued to trudge onwards without compliant or concern.

"Er," he started, glancing as best he could at the Khajiit on his back. "Are you…okay?"

It was a stupid question, he knew, but what else was he supposed to ask?

The lady wheezed a chuckle. "This one has never been shot with an arrow before, and now she knows why the guards always talk of it. However, this one has often been sliced by swords. Atahbah will be fine. Thank you, Dremora-friend."

He nodded, glad she was in such good spirits.

Alistair did not look convinced of her condition. "You don't look like you'll make it to the city,"

Steve shot him an irritated look.

He might be socially clueless, but even he knew not to bring up someone dying to the person dying.

The Altmer noticed the look and shrugged helplessly.

"Oh, the Thalmor is worried?" Khayla mocked, swaying back and forth as she walked in a graceful mocking gesture.

"Hey," Alistair snapped. "We're supposed to be allies, the Dominion and Khajiit."

The Khajiit all started laughing, even Atahbah.

"That is a good one," Ri'saad chuckled. "Yes, we are allies, no?"

"….No?" Alistair said, bewildered. "I'm confused, but if you aren't all that keen, like others, on the alliance, that's not my problem."

"The problem is your tariffs." Ri'saad informed him. "How am I supposed to sell Moonsugar when you Thalmor skim so much profits off the top?!"

"Don't sell drugs!" Alistair replied. "Obviously."

The Kahjiit all started laughing again.

Steve was confused, but decided not to worry about it and kept an eye out for more trouble. After all, he didn't really know much about Nirn and it's weird problems.

Thalmor were bad.

Khajiit were fine but sold drugs.

Bandits were everywhere.

He didn't need to know much more about whatever they were talking about.

Before long, the looming spires and imposing walls of what Steve assumed were Markarth appeared before them.

"Oh!" he exclaimed. "This city! I've been here before."

The others ignored him.

The Khajiit got to work on their camp, and Khayla carefully helped Atahbah lie down. The poor Khajiiti lady looked sickly and was barely conscious.

"She's lost a lot of blood," Alistair said unhelpfully.

Khayla hissed, "This one knows! Make yourself useful, Thalmor _ally_ , and go find a healer in Markarth."

"Me?" the elf said, pointing to himself.

Ma'randru-jo looked up from the tent he was pitching. "Yes you! Thalmor fool. We are not allowed in cities, and that Dremora probably isn't either. That leaves you,"

Steve glanced at him. "They do have a point,"

"As if I'm going to be welcomed in there?" Alistair retorted quietly.

Steve gestured to his outfit. "You don't look like a Thalmor."

"I'm still an Altmer."

"There used to be an Altmer here, I can't remember what happened to him…"

"If you mean Ondolemar," Alistair said, "I heard he got fired for getting drunk at some party and going insane. I have no idea where he ended up. Probably in a shallow grave somewhere."

Steve frowned and looked back to the injured Khajiit. "I doubt it's dangerous in the city, and besides, she needs our help."

Alistair hesitated, but finally heaved a sigh. "Fine."

Steve was honestly surprised he agreed.

"I'll be back soon." The elf said, adding with an eye roll; "Hopefully."

"We will be here, selling wares," Ma'randru-jo said.

"If they have coin!" Khayla added.

The Khajiit laughed again.

The cat people were weird.

It had been….well, honestly Steve didn't know how time worked in Nirn.

It felt like a long time since Alistair left, but he really had no idea.

Besides, even if he did know how time worked in this strange land, he would still be confused. Summoning spells only lasted so long, minutes at a time, and so anything longer than that felt…odd.

Still, despite their friend's failing condition, the Khajiit still tried to sell their wares to passers by and visitors from Markarth.

Steve was not so clueless as to miss the obvious Skooma trade that had happened twice, but he decided not to bring it up. They had been nothing but nice hosts for their uninvited guests. And it wasn't his problem if some mortals wanted to kill themselves faster.

One visitor, however, was dressed like a city guard, but didn't have the face of the city guards. Those metal faced men were odd ones, but Steve knew that a lot of Oblivion's tenants were strange and worrisome to people from Nirn, so he tried not to judge.

This man, however, seemed normal. So why he was choosing to dress like those guards, he didn't understand.

Maybe he respected them so much, he tried to copy them.

That made sense.

"I need a new weapon, mine is so dull it can barely cut butter." he explained. "I tried to get a new one from the blacksmith, but he said that the dumb apprentice they had ruined all the supplies, and I'd have to wait a week. I can't wait a week! What if we get attacked?"

He shrugged. "I mean, I mostly deal with petty thievery and drunkard brawls, but you never know. Damn dragons could swoop down at any minute. Besides, we really have to do something about these vampire attacks."

The Khajiit were over the man in seconds. It was amazing to see them try to sell things. They took it very seriously.

They talked about weapons, showed him some options and even let him try some out.

Steve was trying to remain inconspicuous.

"Uh, by the way," the man finally asked. He'd been casting glances at Steve for several minutes before piping up. "What's with… _that_ ,"

Ri'saad shrugged, "I cannot sell him. Mostly because this one does not know how. He is friend to Khajiit. So, he stays there."

"Huh." the man said.

Steve waved, "Hi, I'm Steve."

"Um….hi."

"You should ditch that clunky Warhammer and go for a two-handed sword," Steve advised. "You are in most danger from Forsworn here in Markarth, mistress always says. They are fast. I know. I'm fought them. Hard to catch and decapitate. But, they have no armor. Hit them, and they practically turn to mortal mush. Swords swing faster then axes or hammers, so you'd have a better chance to hit them."

The man blinked and then grinned, "Aye, that's not bad advice. Let me try one of those swords you have."

Steve watched him take a few, poor, swings.

"No, no," he said, shaking his hand and drawing his own blade. "Like _this_ ,"

The man watched him take a few swings and nodded, "I see. Wow, you make that look easy."

He turned back to the Khajiit. "I'll take two of these. That way, if I wreck one while practicing, it won't matter."

After he paid and left, Ri'saad turned slowly around with a very creepy grin on his furred face. "This one thinks you make very good sales-Dremora. You are welcome to travel with Khajiit anytime."

"Er…thanks?" Steve said, unsure.

He'd actually heard of Dremora saleskyn and always wondered how they actually managed to make sales. But mistress said she'd met a couple and that they were very funny and easy to bargain with, so who knew.

It was sunset when Alistair finally returned from the city. He seemed tried and more irritated then normal, but unharmed.

"Your back!" Steve greeted cheerfully. He'd actually missed the cranky elf, and Atahbah needed a healer sooner rather then later. She was starting to get delirious.

Alistair sighed as he approached, stomping muddy boots on the ground with each step. "Ugh, I would have back ages ago, but no,"

He rolled his eyes. "I tried to temple here, but it's a temple to Dibella. They wouldn't even let me inside. Then I tried to local priest of Arkay, but he said he wasn't ever leaving the city again and raved on about some situation with cannibals?

"Oh yeah, the cannibals!" Steve said, nodding. "I killed a few of them myself. He doesn't need to worry. We got them all."

Alistair gave him a weird look, but continued; "Fortunately, I happened upon someone also visiting the city who claimed she had heal minor injuries. Hopefully-"

Whatever else he was going to say was cut off by a bloodcurdling battle cry.

On instinct, Steve drew his blade and looked for an attacker. It must have been this 'healer' the Altmer had just mentioned, because a figure moved with speed from behind him and swung a weapon.

Steve narrowly parried it, and winced at the clung of metal on metal. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but another swing came his way.

The mace narrowly missed his head. "Die, Daedra!" his attacker screeched.

She was winding up for another attempt and he freed his sword, blocking the next barrage.

Metal clanged loudly again, echoing through the rocky pass.

"Why are you attacking me!" Steve snapped. He grunted as her mace hit his bladed edge once more.

"The suffering the Daedra cause will not go unpunished!"

" _What does that mean_?" he wondered, momentarily distracted.

In that moment, she changed tactics and feigned another blow, only to sweep low and slam into his left leg.

"Ow!" he exclaimed, hopping backwards from the surprise blow. The worst of the damage was blocked by his armor, but it still stung and would bruise.

In the brief reprieve as he backpedaled, Steve could finally get a good look at his assailant in the early morning light. She was dressed in the robes of a Vigilant of Stendarr.

"Ohhhhhhh," he muttered under his breath, gearings turning to make sense of the situation.

With a battle cry, she hefted her mace and pulled it back, over her shoulder, for another strike.

He tried to block once more, but the sheer force of the hit staggered him, leaving him open to another attack. He managed to turn slightly so that the mace only hit his shoulder.

"Stop attacking me!" Steve complained, refusing to hit back. The Vigilants, although ineffectual and misguided, weren't evil by any means. He wanted to avoid bloodshed, if possible.

She was having none of it, and continued to batter him with smaller, weaker strikes that kept him on guard.

"I'm not trying to do anything bad!" he argued through the flurry of movement.

"Lies!" she screamed.

Finally, a currant of purple shock magic curled around her legs, traveling upwards to the rest of her body.

She gave a small sound of discomfort and backed off a few steps. The worst of the magic was negated, likely by a spell.

Steve glanced over at Alistair, who was looking unsure and cautious.

"Don't hurt her," Steve instructed.

The Altmer looked at him like he had lost his mind. "What? She's trying to kill you, and likely me as well,"

"You!" the Vigilant said, pointing her mace at Alistair. "You have summoned this creature. You must die as well!"

"See?!" Alistair exclaimed, lunching an icy bolt at the woman.

The spell staggered her, but she was persistent. With a grunt she continued to walk forward, slowed by the ice but not deterred.

Steve hesitated, torn between going on the offensive and taking her out, or continuing to try and reason with her.

But what would he even say? He wasn't very good with words.

Before Alistair or him could make a move, Ri'saad appeared and beaned the woman over the head with a kettle.

Apparently, that was all it took to stop her rampage, because she swayed, dropped her mace, and crumpled to the ground.

Steve looked at the cat man and blinked.

"Hmmm….I suppose we still need a healer now…" Ri'saad mumbled.

Alistair and Steve exchanged a glance, looked at the knocked-out woman, and then looked once more back at each other.

They both shrugged.

* * *

 **I had to end this chapter here, because it was getting very long. Next chapter is going to be a fun one!**

 **Hope everyone is enjoying this ridiculous story. I'm having fun writing it, and I kind of have an idea for a last story in this semi-triology...I might write it after this, we'll see. ;)**

 **I really like the idea of Steve thinking the guards are like another type of mortal, and that those helmets are actually their faces XD I mean, he doesn't know any better, and we never DO see them without the masks, so...**

 **Sorry for the lack of updates on all my stories. April has been a busy month with not a lot of time to myself to write. Hoping to get some more work done soon on this story, and my others.**

 **Stay tuned!**


	4. Chapter 4

The light of the healing spell died with the telltale "chiming" sound that Steve had occasionally heard when his mistress healed herself or others.

The Vigilant rocked back on her heels and stared from a moment at the Khajiit and then nodded, satisfied.

"She will be fine with some rest and water. She is strong, and the arrow missed vital parts."

Ri'saad did a little bow, "Ah, this one thanks you."

The woman's eyes narrowed, "No thanks yet, for I want answers now."

Steve slowly backed up, positioning himself out of view and somewhat behind Alistair. It took the Altmer a moment to realize what he'd done. The elf glared at him as the Vigilant stood.

"Alright, explain all of this to me now that your friend is still breathing," she demanded, crossing her arms and glaring at everyone present.

Ri'saad shrugged, "We are just Khajiit traders."

And walked around.

Alistair muttered something under his breath and crossed his arms, obviously annoyed.

"You, Dremora. Talk." The woman demanded.

Steve frowned, but correctly her politely; "My name is Steve."

"….."

Alistair sighed, "Oh, this is ridiculous. You, sit down," he said, pointing at the Vigilant. "And _you_ ," he added, pointing at Steve. "Explain to her what's going on."

The woman tossed him a look, "Who the hell do you think you are, little Altmer? _You_ sit down,"

"Who do I think I am?" Alistair began, in the most arrogant, obviously Altmer voice he could muster. "I am a Thalmor agent of Aldmeri Dominion, and-"

"Oh," the woman mocked, "how important sounding. Well, I'm a Vigilant of Stendarr, god of mercy and-"

"Oh, stuff it, no one cares!" Alistair snapped.

She barked a laugh, "Of course not, everyone knows Altmer only time to suck Auri-El's-"

"You're a Dunmer! What do you know about the Aedra? If you aren't doing weird rituals to Daedra, your 'gods' are busy murdering each other,"

Steve groaned, rolled his eyes and reached out to grab both their arms. He gave them both a sharp tug that unbalanced them.

" _Both_ of you sit down!"

They obeyed but glared up at him.

"Now," he said, trying to remain claim. "I will tell you everything, but neither of you are going to say anything until I'm done.

"Fine."

"…Fine."

He glanced at the Vigilant. "What's you name, by the way?"

"…Briivasa Nithalen." she replied, scowling.

"Nice to meet you," he said. "I'm Steve, like I said, and this is Alistair."

With a deep breath, he began his tale.

After he finished speaking, there was a long pause.

"Horseshit." Briivasa spat.

Alistair groaned and buried his head into his hands.

"You expect me to believe you're a lost Dremora looking for the Dragonborn?" Briivasa said, quirking an eyebrow. "That is the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

"Why?" Steve asked, genuinely interested.

"Because everyone knows Daedra are liars and dangerous! First of all, why would a hero like the Dragonborn ever need or want your help. Secondly, the chances of a spell going awry that way and trapping you here? Near impossible."

"Well, it's true," Alistair said, looking up. "I wouldn't be here if it wasn't."

Briivasa looked between them, eyes narrowed.

Steve frowned, "Well, why don't you explain yourself, then."

"Explain myself?" she repeated.

He nodded, "Yes, why are you in Markarth?"

"Besides, I heard all the Vigilants were dead." Alistair added. "At least, that was what the official Thalmor report said."

Briivasa scowled once more. "Most, but not all. Our numbers are few, but since the vampire threat has dwindled, we've been able to work on smaller missions again. I may not like the Dawnguard, and they may not want out help, but I can't argue that they got things done. I respect them for that."

She sighed and shifted slightly in front of the fire. "As for why I'm in Markarth, I was following up on an old lead we had. Another Vigilant came here to investigate some weird house inside the city. He never reported back, and we never found a body. So, I set out to figure out what was going on. We'd gotten a tip the house was being used for Daedra worship, but I don't know anything more then that. I was trying to question people when mister Thalmor here showed up looking for a healer."

Steve winced, "Er….yeah, might be just as well. Probably should…leave that house alone for now."

"…Why?" Briivasa asked suspiciously.

Alistair seemed interested too. Steve held his hands up, "It is being used for Daedra worship, but…um…you should probably leave that one alone for now."

"But _why_?" Alistair and Briivasa both pressed.

Steve sighed, "Fine, it's Molag Bal,"

" _What?_!" Briivasa exclaimed, hopping to her feet. "I need my mace, and I'm going to back in there,"

Steve grabbed her arm and set her back down. "No, you aren't. That other Vigilant is dead, and even if you wanted to go back in there, which, you really don't, mistress dumped a bunch of random stuff in the house. You can't even get to the alter anymore."

"Wait…what?" Alistair asked. "Random stuff?"

Steve nodded, "Buckets, baskets, food that's probably spoiled by now, torches, books, clothes, brooms, lanterns, wine bottles,-"

Alistair held up his hands, "Okay, okay, I get it…But why did she do that?"

Steve shrugged, "She thought it would be funny and make Molag Bal mad. And it was, and did."

Briivasa was regarding him carefully. "You are quite convincing with this ridiculous story that you know the Dragonborn."

"It's the truth," Steve assured. "I've known mistress for…well, a long time. But I'm serious, you should leave that house alone. At least for now. Going in alone is a bad idea."

Briivasa gave him a once over. "Why do you care?"

"Because I don't think anyone should die for no reason, that's just dumb." Steve replied.

Briivasa snorted a sort of laugh and crossed her arms. "Alright, I won't investigate it. For now."

"Good!"

"But that doesn't mean I believe you, or that I'm going to let you just walk away, Dremora. I am sworn to find the Daedra wherever they hid and drag them to the light."

Steve was confused. "But I'm not hiding,"

The Dunmer woman frowned, "I know, it's a figure of speech."

"Well," Alistair cut in. "Why don't you two hash this out. I'll just be off, then."

"Uh…no," Steve said, shaking his head. Briivasa likewise shook her head. "No, I don't think so."

Alistair deflated.

"This is your fault, remember?" Steve pointed out. "You are stuck with me until we find mistress."

Alistair sighed, "Fine…"

Steve turned to Briivasa. "You seem like a nice mortal, passed all the…mace swinging and such. I don't want to fight you, but I will if I have too."

She regarded him for a moment and then shook her head. "That is unnecessary. I suspect if you were actually trying, you would be a difficult opponent. Besides, your foolish story has me intrigued. I propose a different sort of idea."

"Alright?" he said, not sure he liked where this was going.

"I will travel with you until I either figure out what you are really doing here, or until your story proves true."

That seemed reasonable. "Okay."

Alistair groaned and buried his face in his hands again.

"That's right, Thalmor, you are stuck with me," Briivasa said, smirking.

"Joy…" Alistair muttered grumpily.

She turned back to Steve and her partial smile dropped. "I want my mace back,"

"No!" Alistair said, looking up. "She'll just attack us again!"

Steve paused. That did sound like a possibility.

Briivasa shook her head. "No, I won't. I've promised to travel with you. On my honor as a Vigilant, you have my word I will stay my weapon until I figure out what is going on."

Alistair scoffed. "Honor…oh please."

Steve, however, believed her. The Kyn favored honor above most other things, and he believed her when she said she was not going to attack them.

He reached back and unclipped the mace from his back where'd he'd kept it after her first attack. He held it out to her. "Here, thank you for you promise."

Briivasa seemed somewhat surprised but took the mace with both hands and a steely look.

Alistair however rolled his eyes and muttered something about being too trusting.

Steve didn't think trust was a bad thing. If nobody trusted each other, then nothing would ever get done.

"Where are we headed?" Briivasa asked, securing her weapon back to her side and fixing her hood.

"Well, I've just been traveling with the Kahjiit for a few days. I was hoping we'd run into mistress, but so far, nothing."

He hated talking about their lack of progress. It made him worry something bad at happened to his mistress.

Alistair piped up. "We had thought to perhaps check the Dragonborn's house, but, sadly, Steve doesn't know where it is. And so far, no one else we've met does either."

Steve nodded. "I don't know Skyrim that well. Summoning spells only last so long, after all. I've seen her house, but not how to get. Only that it wasn't as snowy as other places, there is a lake next to it, and lots of tress."

"Not much to go on, as you can see." the Altmer finished.

"Hmm…" The Dunmer said. "What if we went to the Dawnguard? Isran is an ass but they might know where the Dragonborn is, or, where her house is."

"Do you know where the Dawnguard is?" Steve asked.

Briivasa grinned. "I do indeed."

* * *

Steve insisted they say goodbye to the Khajiit, despite both of his companions thinking they should head out immediately.

The cat-folk had been kind and helpful when no one else was, and he wanted to at least be polite enough to give them a proper goodbye.

"This one hopes you find the Dragonborn," Khayla said, sharpening her sword as Ri'saad finished with a customer.

"Thanks," Steve replied. "I hope you….um…make lots of money?"

Khayla grinned, showing her teeth. "Ah, thank you, friend-Dremora."

Atahbah looked over from where she was resting by the fire. She had recovered mostly but was obviously taking it easy while they were stopped. Ma'randru-jo was busy stirring a pot nearby, humming.

"Thank you for your assistance," Atahbah called over.

"I'm just glad you are feeling better." Steve replied.

She nodded, "Yes, tell your friends thank you as well, no?"

"Oh, sure." He agreed, gesturing behind him. "They are just being impatient over there, but I'll tell them."

Ri'saad, apparently done with his customer and handed the money to Ma'randru-ro to count. "Ah, you leave us, friend-Dremora?"

"Yes, we're going to head to the Dawnguard and see if they can help." Steve explained. "I wanted to say goodbye, though, and thank you for your help."

Ri'saad bowed slightly, "Ah, you are most welcome. You are welcome to travel and trade with us anytime. Or, sell for us. Either way."

"Um…thanks?"

Ri'saad nodded. "May your road lead you to warm sands,"

Recalling the farewell mistress often said in reply to that very comment, Steve grinned. "Two moons light your path."

Ri'saad grinned.

Alistair was impatiently tapping his foot while Briivasa scanned the horizon when Steve finally made it over to them.

"Are you done?" Alistair asked rudely.

Steve made a face at him, "For someone who keeps bragging about being highborn, you have terrible manners. I was saying goodbye to our friends."

Alistair looked genuinely offended by the comment, but Briivasa cut in before he could voice any displeasure.

"They are your friends, not mine." She commented.

Steve's frown deepened. He didn't understand why everyone in Nirn was so rude all the time.

Apparently, it wasn't all that different from Oblivion after all.

"Now, we should move. The Rift is on the complete opposite end of Skyrim." Briivasa reminded. "It will take time to travel."

Alistair paused, "It occurs to me that we have no food."

* * *

Ri'saad grinned as they approached. "You need supplies,"

"Yeah, we need supplies," Steve answered.

Briivasa crossed her arms, "I don't think I have enough money to pay for enough supplies."

Ri'saad waved a hand, "Nevermind, just take them. This one will talk to the Dragonborn about it next time he sees her."

"Really, a Kahjiit offering credit?" Alistair mocked. "I never thought I'd see the day."

Atahbah frowned from her seat by the fire. "This one was just commenting to Khayla that you were the nicest Thalmor she had met, but now?"

Alistair crossed his arms. "I'm just saying…"

Steve rolled his eyes at their antics.

* * *

"How far is this fort?" Alistair asked.

Briivasa rolled her eyes. "Very far, stop asking me foolish questions."

"It's not foolish! I don't know where anything is in Skyrim," the Altmer complained. "You'd be just as lot if you showed up on Alinor's shores, I'm sure."

"It's called a map, Thalmor," the woman retorted.

Steve sighed, "Stop being mean to him,"

Briivasa and Alistair both paused on the road to look at him.

He glanced between the two of them. "What? You are rude, Briivasa."

"I'm just shocked you care that she's being rude to me," Alistair admitted.

Steve shrugged, "We're all in this journey together, so we might as well get along."

Briivasa's features twisted to a funny look. "I'm being lectured about kindess by a Dremora."

"He's a weird one," Alistair muttered, starting to walk again. "Ugh, these shoes are terrible."

Curious, Steve fell into step beside him. "Don't you Thalmor agents walk around all the time?"

"Our boots are enchanted!" Alistair exclaimed. "I mean, yes, we still get tired, but it's different."

Briivasa kicked her own armored boots against the road. "A walk can clear the mind, but yes, traveling takes it's toll. I need a new pair of boots myself here soon."

"Why don't you use those weird looking animals with big eyes and tails to get around?" Steve asked.

"…Horses?"

"I don't know, maybe? That sounds like the right word…" he replied, trying to recall what he'd heard people call them. "Mistress has this awesome undead horse she rides sometimes. Arvak. He's pretty cool. Can't talk, but sometimes he shakes his head at stuff when it's dumb."

The two elves were giving him that 'look' again, the one that said he was being strange.

"It's true…." he muttered.

They rounded a bend in the road and saw ahead a group of three people.

"Uh oh," all three adventures murmured.

Steve squinted ahead. "I can't really tell who it is, but they are all wearing the same outfit."

"Looks like a Stormcloak patrol." Briivasa added, hand releasing her mace's handle. "They might think this is weird, but I doubt they'll be upset."

"Uh," Alistair said, pointing to himself.

"I told you already, you don't look like a Thalmor," Steve explained, exasperated.

Briivasa crossed her arms, "Well, we can't do anything now, they are headed this way."

Alistair winced and ducked behind Steve.

He rolled his eyes.

"This is the strangest bunch of people I've ever seen," one off the soldiers said as he approached.

Another shrugged. "Nah, I once saw the Dragonborn wandering around with a skeleton horse, vampire girl and her reanimated horker and one of those elemental things mages summon."

The other two looked at the man who said it. He shrugged. "I'm seen some stuff."

"Hi!" Steve greeted cheerfully.

"Um….hi?" one of the soldiers said. "Where you headed…?"

"Why do you want to know?" Briivasa asked suspiciously.

Steve rolled his eyes, irritated how everything had to be a fight. "We're going to the Dawnguard."

"Oh…out at the old fort, near Riften?"

Steve glanced at Briiavsa for confirmation that was, in fact, where it was.

She nodded, "Yes."

"Huh. Long way. Have a good trip."

They walked by, talking about bread.

Alistair breathed a sigh of relief once they were out of sight.

"They didn't even notice you," Steve assured him.

Briivasa chuckled, "They must be stupid to not question us further. We are an odd group."

"Or drunk." Alistair added.

They both looked at Steve.

He blinked. "What?"

"I expected another comment on how we should be nice." Briivasa confessed.

The Dremora shrugged. "Those were kind of rude comments, but they could also be true, so…"

She chuckled again and began walking once more.

Alistair trailed after her and Steve took up the rear of their little group.

It was going to be a long trip to this 'Rift', but he was starting to kind of like these two mortals he was traveling with.

They weren't anywhere as wonderful as his mistress, but they were pretty cool in their own right.

Now they just had to find the Dragonborn and he could finally rest easy that she was alright.

For now, he'd continue to ignore the nagging, bad feeling that lingered in the back of his mind.

* * *

 **And our third "Party Member" arrives! In this story's 1st draft, Briivasa had a different name and was a thief/rouge type character, so that the group would literally be Warrior, Mage, Thief, but it didn't jive quite right, and its too funny having a Vigilant travel with a Dremora XD So, Briivasa is here.**

 **I went back to an older chapter of this story to check if I had already written something in here and noticed all the typos...yikes. So sorry for all those. I'll try to do a better job editing/checking these chapters before I post!**

 **I...um...I have dumped a lot of crap in Molag Bal's "house"...in fact, you can't even get to the alter room without the game getting slow and have trouble spawning stuff in. I like to troll the Daedra, what can I say?**

 **There's a couple more chapters in this story, and a couple fun things I have planned. Stay tuned!**

 **Also, as a note; I realize I've done very little in the way of describing what anything looks like, including Alistair and Briivasa, but there is a reason for that. Steve doesn't care. lol. He's a Dremora, all the mortals look the same and he doesn't care about hair color or height or even the weather in Skyrim. It's been weird writing this way, and kind of hard because I love character creation so of course I have an idea in my head what all these people look like.**

 **But, I thought it worth a mention.**

 **"See you" next chapter!**


	5. Chapter 5

They had met little excitement along the road, and after the paths became too dark to travel, they stopped for the night.

The only sounds now were the crackling of the fire and some nighttime bugs in the distance.

Steve was glad for the near-silence. He'd gotten tried of listening to Briivasa and Alistair constantly harass each other with on-going insults and complaints.

Despite how annoying they could be, he was glad to have some company on the trip, as it did pass the time faster. Briivasa had mentioned they made good progress towards the Dawnguard.

As they sat and munched on some of the supplies Ri'saad had provided, Steve took the time to watch the sky.

It was weird here on Nirn.

There were those big floating ball things called "moons" and then the little speckly things called "stars" that were apparently magical creatures, or spirits, or something.

The mortal world was so strange.

"Dremora," Briivasa said, calling him back to reality. "Tell me more about…well, about your ridiculous story."

He frowned. "What do you want to know?"

"Let's start with how you supposedly met and got into the service of the Dragonborn," she replied, giving him a look.

Obviously she didn't believe him still, and perhaps she expected him to have no story prepared.

But it was the true, so he didn't need to have anything prepared.

"I met her in Coldharbor." He started, only to be interrupted.

Alistair looked up, "Wait, the Oblivion realm Coldharbor?"

He nodded.

"Is she was vampire? That would make sense why you think she's over four thousand years old." The Altmer mused.

Steve sighed, but explained patiently. "No, she's not a vampire. She has friends who are vampires though."

Briivasa waved a hand dismissively. "Continue."

He frowned. She sure was bossy.

But, he didn't have any reason to not honor her request, so he continued his tale.

He told of everything he knew, leading up to her summoning him as an unbound, and then explain some of the adventures they'd had in Skyrim more recently.

Briivasa said little, but she seemed to be thinking intensely.

"And so, every time we see Thalmor on the road we kill them." Steve finished, glancing at Alistair. "Oh. Um. Sorry."

He scowled.

"Which is why we were caught up in that spell I told you about. Mistress knew that was a trap, but we decided to spring it anyway." He said, feeling bad. "I wish I'd told her not too."

Briivasa tapped fingers against her knee, "Hmm…"

"You still don't believe me, do you?" Steve asked.

The Dark Elf shrugged, smirking lightly. "I believe little, these days. I must admit, your story seems true enough. At least, you seem to believe it quite a bit. But it's hard to believe all the same."

"Mistress is a very skilled conjurer," he insisted.

Alistair snorted. "I can vouch that part, at least. Two conjured creatures at once? Not a feat undertaken lightly, that is certain."

Briivasa shrugged again. "Time will tell if all this is a hoax or not. Regardless, we will make it to the Dawnguard. Isran better not be too much of a pain in the ass."

Alistair looked thoughtful, "You know, if occurs to me…Steve, what do you eat? You just ate some of the food we had, but that seems….so odd."

"Dremora can eat what people eat. We don't need to eat as much as mortals, I don't think. I suppose I've never really thought about it. Meat is best, though."

He left out the part about some Daedra eating people. They didn't need to know that _all_ meat was best.

The conversation dwindled and Steve blinked. "What about you two?"

They both looked at him in confusion.

"Oh, not the food part. The story part." he explained.

Alistair snorted again. "I'm not telling you anything."

Briivasa tossed another stick into the flames. "There isn't much to tell. I grew up in Cyrodiil. I became a Vigilant. Here we are."

Steve paused. "The Oblivion Crisis?"

She regarded him for a moment, as if thinking if she wanted to answer or not. "My parents survived it in the Imperial City."

Alistair glanced at Steve. "Were you around during the Oblivion Crisis?"

"Yes, although, um," he stuttered. "I'm not the _best_ Dremora, so I didn't go to the Imperial City at all." He returned his attention to Briivasa. "But, mistress might have met your parents,"

She looked less then convinced.

Steve was tried of her facial expressions. She wasn't the most animated mortal, ranging from annoyed to skeptical only. Granted, he'd only been around a few mortals for more then a few minutes, so maybe that was normal, and people like mistress were the exceptions.

Deciding to try and be sociable, he spoke up again. "I met Martin Septim."

The Dunmer gave him a look, so he held up his hands. "I did!"

"You are full of horker dung," Briivasa said matter-of-factly.

Steve frowned, "I am not. Wait, what is it? Maybe I am. We Dremora aren't quite the same as you mortals,"

She rolled her eyes.

Alistair just looked puzzled and leaned forward. "Who are you talking about?"

They both stared at him.

Briivasa broke the confused silence first.

"Are you stupid?"

The Altmer bristled. "Of course not! I am of noble birth, from-"

Steve and Briivasa both sighed in unison, having heard that claim a dozen times already on the journey.

He must have heard them because he scowled and crossed his arms indignantly. "It was a legitimate question,"

"No it wasn't," Briivasa snapped. "There should be no one alive who doesn't know who that is."

"Even Sheogorath knows who that is." Steve added helpfully.

They ignored him.

Alistair seemed irritated, but also a little uneasy because he kept shifting uncomfortably. "Fine, forget I asked," he muttered.

"He stopped the Oblivion Crisis!" Briivasa said loudly. "Seriously, are you stupid?"

Alistair bristled. "I'm not stupid! And this random person you are talking about did not stop the Oblivion Crisis,"

"Yes he did!" Steve and Briivasa both exclaimed.

The Dunmer woman pointed sharply at Alistair, "I don't know what skooma-induced fantasies you all cook up on that island of yours, but it's all foolishness."

"How do you know?" he snapped back.

"I was there," Steve said, raising his hand. "I may not have actually seen him turn into a giant dragon, but let me tell you, Mehrunes Dagon sure though it was Martin who stopped it. He threw a tantrum for forever."

Briivasa crossed her legs and rested her elbows on her knees. "Honestly, what did you think happened? You think the Daedra just gave up? Got bored?"

"No, of course not," Alistair complained, looking unsure.

Even Steve could see how genuinely uncomfortable the Altmer was, as if this bit of news distressed him for some reason.

Steve wasn't sure why who stopped the Oblivion Crisis even mattered so long after the event, but he felt badly for being the one to bring it up.

"Well, at least it's been awhile since the Daedra tried anything," he declared cheerfully. "I guess that means its' probably about time for one of them to try a new plan, though."

Both Mer stared at him.

Steve blinked. "What? It's true…"

"You just…make it sound so casual," Alistair commented, frowning.

He shrugged. "If its' not soul stealing, it's taking over Nirn. If it's not taking over Nirn, its' destroying Nirn. If its' not destroying Nirn, its' changing all of time and reality. Its' always something. Mortals are the same, but their plans are…smaller."

They both stared at him again.

"You are the strangest Dremora," Briivasa finally said, crossing her arms.

Steve perked up, "How many Dremora have you met?"

He was genuinely curious.

She frowned, "Well, admittedly just you, but still. You hear stories, first hand accounts of people who have met them,"

"I'm a little odd," he admitted.

Alistair snorted. "A little?"

Steve frowned at him. There was no need to be rude about it.

"Mistress says that odd people are the only ones who can change the world," he said proudly. "Well, she said she _paraphrased_ that from something Sotha Sil said,"

"Your mistress did not meet Sotha Sil," Briivasa argued.

"Yes she did!" Steve confirmed. "She meets a lot of people. Um…fake gods, or…whatever."

Alistair chuckled.

Briivasa looked unconvinced. "Whatever. I'm going to sleep."

"Do Dremora sleep?" Alistair asked, looking over at him.

Steve shook his head, "No."

"Excellent. Built in camp guard," Briivasa said, smirking.

Steve could have argued, but he didn't see any point. He didn't mind watching the camp, and mortals needed to be unconscious for hours each day, so it worked out perfectly.

Alistair didn't move to sleep like Briivasa, however, and instead gazed at the fire for a few solid minutes. Steve wondered if he should say anything.

But last time he had said something, it didn't go as planned.

Another few minutes ticked by and finally Steve cleared his throat and tried to recall what it sounded like when a mortal was contrite.

Dremora didn't _do_ contrite.

"Sorry if…well, I didn't think the Oblivion Crisis would be a bad topic, but, I suppose, it was rather traumatic for Nirn. Sorry for bringing it up."

He hoped that was convincing.

Alistair scowled, but at the fire, not Steve.

"We call it the Great Anguish." the Altmer explained. "They always told us it was the single greatest tragedy to ever strike Alinor, so great was the destruction and unimaginable suffering. The Crystal Tower fell. Literally, fell. To pieces. People jumped from the top of it before that, to get away from the Daedra. Better to die on our own terms then be slaughtered like cattle. For all our great magic, we could do nothing."

Alistair looked up sharply, "They also tell us that the Thalmor saved us, that they fought off the Daedra and stopped the invasion. And yet you want me to believe that…that…some _man_ did it instead?"

Steve frowned. He could tell the Altmer was upset, but honestly he didn't get why. What did it matter who stopped the crisis?

Maybe it was an honor thing, like when Dremora or Xivilai argued over who killed what and who dropped the final blow.

"We Daedra call it something different, too. We call it the failed calamity. Or, some do. Others say other, scoffing things, usually to make fun of Mehrunes Dagon's folly. Still, it was a harsh time for all." Steve explained.

Alistair gave him a look, "A harsh time for all?"

"You mortals were the victors of that fight," Steve explained. "How do you think the citizens of Oblivion fared? We lost. We call death and the failure the same, for if you fail, then you die. Both figurately and literally. Many strong, honorable and courageous Daedra died during that time. Obviously, its' not the same for you and me, but…"

He frowned, thinking back. "I saw many perish, and heard of even more. Mistress always said that no one really wins any wars, it's just who loses the least that history calls victorious. I would say that no one really won the Oblivion Crisis. And, maybe, that means Mehrunes Dagon won all along."

Alistair gave him a once over, "You _are_ a strange Dremora."

Steve just grinned, shrugged, and looked back up at the sky.

There was a long pause before the Thalmor shifted slightly and spoke up again. "You are sure it was this Martin fellow who stopped the invasion?"

"I'm sure." Steve replied without hesitation. "I had to hear Dagon curse his name a thousand times a thousand, over and over. It was definitely him."

"Hmm…"

Steve avoided mentioning that the Thalmor always lied, so why was Alistair so surprised? He figured that was maybe the problem. Alistair hadn't realized that yet. Steve was just used to it. Daedra were always sneaky, lying, betrayers. No surprise there.

"If you two are done gossiping like old ladies," Briivasa snapped from her bedroll suddenly. "We could all get some sleep!"

Steve and Alistair caught each other's eyes and rolled them simultaneously.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Wow, I hadn't realized how long it had been since I updated! Whoops. Sorry about that. I AM working on this story.**

 **There's probably a few chapters left total. Moving right along. It's only a short story after all.**

 **I wanted to have a chapter where the Oblivion Crisis was discussed, since it really did define some much of the world. The Altmer DO call it the Great Anguish, and they DO claim that the Thalmor of Auridon are who stopped it, at least on Alinor, after the Crystal Tower fell (and it did fall,) and all but 1 Sapiarch were killed defending it. That shift in power really propelled the Thalmor into a position to actual seize power and become the faction we all love to hate that they are today. Yippee.**

 **Also, I always think that Daedra (like Dremora, and Xivali and Mazkyn, etc.) are kind of...not misunderstood, but, not that different from the mortals of Nirn, actually. They are more extreme in all they do, but I suspect they, too, would see the failed Crisis as a terrible event, since they lost and died and such.**

 **Also, that line about odd people changing the world IS a VERY paraphrased line from Sotha Sil in the Summerset DLC of ESO ;)**

 **See you all next time!**


	6. Chapter 6

"What in Oblivion is _that_?!" Alistair cried, pointing at the spider monster before them.

Steve didn't answer him right away, partly because he was busy ramming his sword into the monster's many eyes, and partly because he wasn't sure what these things were called.

His Mistress had called them something specific, but he didn't recall what it was.

Briivasa had just finished off the second spider and was flicking gore from her mace when she frowned at the Altmer's question.

"Its' a Frostbite spider," she replied, as if it should have been obvious.

His golden eyes widened. " _That_ is a Frostbite spider?!"

The Dunmer woman looked annoyed. "Yes!" she put one hand on her hip. The other was still clutching her mace. "I thought you Thalmor had extensive reports and dossiers on everything. How could you not know about these? They are infamous. Everyone knows Skyrim has giant spiders."

Alistair scowled at her, "We do have reports, but when they said giant spiders, I…well, I didn't think they meant…giant."

Steve watched as the elf made a size estimation with his hands that was about a third of the actual Frostbite spider.

Briivasa rolled her eyes and hooked her mace back on her belt.

Steve likewise sheathed his sword and nodded to the size guess. "There's smaller spiders like that on this island Mistress sometimes goes to. They are all white and sometimes they jump and explode."

Alistair made a face, disgusted.

Briivasa grinned, "What, your perfect little island paradise doesn't have spiders?"

"Not like that!" he exclaimed, pointing at the corpses of the fallen Frostbite spiders.

She snorted and began walking once more, leaving them to follow her.

Steve didn't know why spiders bothered mortals so much. They weren't even that scary. But he knew Mistress hated the jumping ones from the island, and often had him take care of them rather than deal with it.

"Mephala has some spider Daedra in her realm that have lady's faces on spider bodies."

Alistair winced, "Disgusting, why would you share that with us?"

"So you wouldn't think the Frostbite ones were so bad," Steve replied.

Obviously.

The Altmer looked disturbed, but stopped complaining at least. Briivasa paused to consult the map, and then they were off again.

They passed into a forest, where the tree bark was white and the leaves were oranges rather then green. Steve recalled being here many times, but everything in the area looked the same, so he couldn't be sure where they truly were.

It was a fairly sunny day, which after all this time didn't bother him as much as it had in the past. The air on Nirn still felt horrible light and clean, but it didn't make him choke and gag like it used too. Mistress always said Skyrim was the coldest place in Tamriel, and he was glad for that, because he'd always liked the cold better then the heat. Mehrunes Dagon's realm was always the worst, he thought.

Briivasa suddenly halted and spun around to glare at him.

He stopped, looking at her oddly.

What was she mad about now?

"Are you…humming, Dremora?" she questioned.

He blinked, "Um…am I?"

"You are," Alistair answered, stopping at his side. "I just wasn't going to antagonize you about it."

Steve frowned thoughtful. "Huh. I hadn't noticed."

"I didn't know Daedra…hummed." Briivasa said, sounding irritated.

"They don't, usually. But, I admit one of my favorite things about Nirn is the music." Steve said.

They both stared at him as if they'd never seen him before.

"What?"

"The music?" Alistair said, eyes wide.

Briivasa crossed her arms, "Are you…serious?"

Steve nodded. "Yes! Few Oblivion realms have music, and those that do, are a pale comparison to the music I've heard on Nirn!" He grinned, "My favorite song is Ragnar the Red."

Briivasa made a series of faces before turning back around and starting walking again. She had muttered something to herself he didn't hear.

Steve just shrugged and followed after her, thinking that mortals were an odd bunch.

"Ragnar the Red?" Alistair said, falling into step beside him. "I'm not familiar with that song."

"It's a Nord song," Briivasa called back.

Steve nodded, "Yes! It's a great song!"

"What's it about?" the elf asked, sounding genuinely curious for once.

"It's about a man who brags about his heroic deeds and then gets his head chopped off!" Steve recounted happily.

"That's a horrible song!" Alistair cried.

Briivasa chuckled, "It's a very _Nord_ song."

"I like it," Steve muttered, sullen.

Briivasa just nodded and repeated; "It's a very Nord song."

There were other songs that Steve liked too, mostly because they were better than the off-putting music in Oblivion. Mistress knew songs from multiple cultures, and even old songs no one knew anymore.

He frowned.

He really missed her.

"Ah!" Briivasa exclaimed, gesturing to a crevice in a nearby rock wall. "I believe we've found the entrance to the valley where the Dawn Guard reside."

Alistair looked completely unimpressed. "I was expecting…. more."

Steve agreed somewhat, but it didn't matter so long as they helped him find his mistress.

Briivasa frowned, "Perhaps the actual fort is more impressive. I guess we'll find out."

She led them through the very tight cleft, forcing them to move single file. Steve could hear Alistair muttering complaints under his breath about dirt, and cold.

Steve didn't particularly like the tight passage either, as he was very tall and his armor was heavy and bulky. He managed to only skim the tips of his gauntlets and shoulder spikes on the rocks and that was an achievement.

They emerged from the short cave to find themselves in a vast, beautiful canyon. Steve remembered being here before, but kept the comment to himself. His companions didn't always appreciate his remarks to things he remembered.

They also didn't seem overly impressed by the landscape, which baffled him.

Mistress often stopped during their travels to just _look_ at things. Sometime she would pause for a good rest and just take it all in.

These mortals were in a hurry, never pausing for a second to enjoy anything.

It was very strange, like so many things mortals did.

They continued along their way, passing a striking vista of frozen waterfalls and spying in the near distance a spire of stone.

"It occurs to me that this… _Dawn Guard_ , might not be inclined to help us." Alistair pointed out.

Briivasa shrugged, "The Dawn Guard is a lot of things, and perhaps not my favorite group of people, but they would have no reason to harm us."

Steve nodded, "That's true, and I know at least one of them that will know who I am."

"Who's that?" Briivasa asked.

"Well, I can't remember her name, but I've been summoned many times when mistress was helping her. She used to be a vampire."

Briivasa halted and looked at him with a hard gaze. "A vampire?"

"Use to be," he repeated. "Mistress convinced her to get cured after we killed her evil dad."

Both elves stared at him.

He frowned, annoyed they kept doing that.

"It's true!" he insisted.

Briivasa said nothing and just shook her head, beginning to walk again.

"Wait, if you traveled with her, how do you not know her name?" Alistair asked.

Steve shrugged, "Mortal names are…strange. The syllables are all wrong and there's too many vowels in them."

Alistair made a face. "Your name is Steve!"

"Yes, I know." The Dremora said, puzzled as to why that meant anything.

The Altmer sighed, shook his head, and said nothing.

They approached the first set of gates in front of the looming fort and a voice called out to them; "Who goes there!"

Briivasa stepped forward confidently before either of the others could move. "I am Briivasa Nithalan, of the Vigilants of Stendarr. I need to speak to the Dawn Guard in regards to the Dragonborn."

The man who had called out hesitated, gaze sweeping over the group from his vantage point on the wall. "And the others?"

"I'm Steve!" he said, waving.

Alistair just shrugged, looking gloomy as usual. "I'm being forced to join them."

"Imbenforcto-joinhm?" the man repeated. "You elves have such weird names…"

Alistair groaned, slapping a hand to his face.

After another moment the gates swung open. "Alright, come in. But know that we are watching you!"

Briivasa rolled her eyes but waved the others with her and entered.

Steve felt anxious at the thought they might finally find something useful to help find his mistress.

Entering the fort, they were met by some grumpy looking mortal who gave them all once overs and looked suspicious. Steve was pretty sure he'd met him before, but he wasn't entirely sure. Mortals often looked alike.

"My guard tells me you arrived wanting to speak with us about the Dragonborn," the man said in a gruff, almost impossible to hear voice. "What do you want?"

"Isran, I presume?" Briivasa commented, frowning. "We have an…interesting story. This Dremora says he works with the Dragonborn, and he's trying to find her. Apparently a spell gone wrong is to blame."

Isran glanced at Steve once more and crossed his arms. "I don't believe it."

"I don't either, but if we could find the Dragonborn, then we would know for sure." Briivasa explained.

Steve spoke up, "I am the Dragonborn's Dremora! I'm sure we've probably met before, actually. Where is the not-vampire mortal? She'll remember me."

Isran's eyes narrowed. "Serana? She might…we'll see…I'm keeping an eye on you…"

Steve wondered why these mortals were so intent on watching him.

Isran had signaled to one of the others in the room and they trotted off. They returned a few short, awkwardly quiet moments later with Serana in toe.

She looked mildly annoyed but grinned when she saw him. "Oh, hello Steve."

Her eyes darted to the others and she narrowed her eyes, crossed her arms and frowned. "Where is the Dragonborn, and who are they?"

"Hi not-vampire girl," Steve began, waving. "That's why we're here. Mistress is missing. There was a magical mishap and now I'm here, and she's…well…not."

Serana hummed for a minute. "Alright, tell me the story from the start." She glanced at the others. "And, seriously, who are these people?"

They began to tell their tale, again, and recount everything that had happened up until this point. Serana and Isran both listened to the story patiently, only asking questions on occasion.

When the tale had finished, there was a long pause.

Isran still looked decidedly unhappy, but Steve wasn't sure why. His life was in no way as chaotic as Steve's was at the moment, so he should be relaxed.

Serana seemed to be thinking. "Hmm…an unbinding spell gone wrong. They usually do." She glanced at Alistair. "How were you powering that sort of spell?"

The Altmer looked puzzled. "Er…with our magicka?"

She made a face, "Without a ritual?"

"Well, Sindalor had been chanting for hours prior to casting the spell." Alistair admitted. "So, I supposed there was a ritual."

Serana nodded, "That would explain it, then."

"How so?" he questioned irritably.

She shrugged, "You tried to unbind something without having an item to focus through, or even an entire conclave of mages. Of course the spell backfired."

"How do you know so much about it?" Briivasa asked, crossing her arms.

Serana grinned, "I'm a lot older then I look,"

"So…" Steve said, trying not to fidget. "Does this help us find mistress? And do you know where her house is?"

Serana nodded. "House, yes. It's in Falkreath, near the lake." She sighed, "As for finding the Dragonborn, well, that…might not be so easy."

Isran spoke up suddenly. "This is not our concern,"

"Ugh, Isran, why are you even still here," Serana complained, frowning at him. "Go…supervise someone or something. Regardless of the Dawnguard's mission, we owe the Dragonborn. Also, she's my friend. I'm going to help find her."

Isran seemed irritated, but he also didn't look entirely mad.

"Very well." The man finally relented. He started to walk away. "Keep me apprised of…all this."

Briivasa made a face. "Wait, I thought he didn't want to help, now he wants to know what's going on?"

Serana rolled her eyes, "Ignore him. No one here likes him, but he is good at what he does."

She waved them onward and they began to traverse the stone corridors of the rather impressive fort. "One time, the Dragonborn stuck a dead fish under his mattress. It smelled for days, and Isran couldn't figure out the problem! Then, to make it even better, the Dragonborn snuck back into his room and took the fish out before he could figure it out!"

Steve chuckled, as did Serana.

Briivasa and Alistair looked confused.

Serana, upon noticing that they weren't laughing, frowned. "I…guess you had to be there,"

She led them up some stairs and into a small room. Steve looked around at the décor, noting a few items he remembered from their travels on the walls. There were also books, plants and ready things all over the floor.

Serana gestured to the space, "Sorry for the mess, this is my little work space."

Alistair gingerly stepped over some soul gems and grimaced. Briivasa just eyed everything in her wary way.

"Thank you for helping," Steve said to Serana, glad to see a familiar face.

She grinned, "Sure thing Steve. I'm sorry the Dragonborn is missing, but there's no way something like this could hurt her. This is the crazy woman who climbed a statue of Auri-El just to see a view of an icy valley."

"Wait, she what?" Alistair asked, looking up.

They all ignored him.

"Now, I'm thinking we could try her house, but, before you make the trip there, let me see if I can scry her." Serana explained, moving some items off a small table in the room. "I'll need to get a few things together. Why don't all of you sit down while I do that."

The two mortals did as they were told, but Steve hesitated before carefully sitting on the very edge of a cushioned chair. His armor plates scraped and squealed a bit at the movement.

Dremora armor was not made to be flexible.

As Serana looked around for varies items, Briivasa watched her carefully. Finally the Dunmer woman crossed her arms and cleared her throat.

"So, you were a vampire."

Steve made a face. He wasn't an expert by any means on the complex and baffling social workings of mortals. However, that seemed like a rude question.

Serana, however, didn't seem bother. "Yes,"

Briivasa's eyes narrowed. "I see…"

Not-vampire mortal tossed her a look over her shoulder, "If you find that unsavory, you can wait outside in the cold."

Alistair snickered.

Briivasa's scowl deepened. "I have never met a vampire who had…become mortal again."

"The Dragonborn convinced me to seek out a cure." Serana explained, arms loaded with plants, a book, and a bowl. "I'm glad she did. Being immortal has it's advantages, but it isn't the same as being truly alive."

She looked pointed at the other woman. "Any other questions, or can I continue with this scrying spell?"

"…I'll save the questions for another time," Briivasa relented.

She still looked suspicious.

Steve thought she needed to relax.

"Alright, let's see if we can't find the missing Dragonborn," Serana said, placing the bowl down. She consulted her book, threw some items in the bowl and then began weaving magic. Steve thought mortal magic was strange.

All glowy and loud and not as destructive as It could be.

Besides, it took so much time. Swords gave you instant results.

Steve tried not to fidget as the spell continued, thinking about all the places they had already been and how little of the world they had seen. Mistress could be anywhere.

"Hmm…" Serana said after a few minutes.

The tendrils of magicka flickered out, leaving behind a weird smell of burnt flowers.

"Hm, what?" Alistair questioned.

Serana crossed her arms, staring at the remains of the ritual.

"Well, I can't find her."

Briivasa blinked, "Can't find her? Did the spell fail?"

"No, it just…she's nowhere."

Realizing how that sounded, Serana was quick to explain when Steve jumped to his feet. "Not that she's dead! Don't worry. There's a few reasons that could have happened, actually. Scrying spells don't go far. At least, I've never been able to scry more then a single province. The Dragonborn might be somewhere else in Tamriel, or…"

"Or?" Steve prompted.

He was starting to freak out.

His mistress was gone. If she was dead, then he had lost his only friend, not to mention his sole purpose of existence.

"Or," Serana continued after a moment. She sounded thoughtful. "She might be in Oblivion."

"What?" Alistair said. "That was definitely not what we were trying to do with that spell,"

"No, I know, but…" Serana started to pace. "unbinding can cause a repercussion of magicka displacement. You, Steve, are here, and the Dragonborn, is not."

He paused. "You think we switched places?"

"Exactly," the not-vampire mortal said, smirking with a snap of her fingers. "If you were left on Nirn, then it stands to reason she ended up wherever you usually are."

Briivasa raised an eyebrow, "How do we even try to find her, then?"

Serana shrugged. "That, I don't know. Oblivion is a big place. And…I'm not sure how you would even get there…"

"We can use the gate to the Evergloam." Steve said.

Everyone else in the room just stared at him.

"Well, we might be able too. I've never used it. But I know where there's a gate to Nocturnal's Ebonmere, and Nocturnal has lots of paths and gates to the Evergloam and other planes."

"I'm not going to Oblivion!" Alistair exclaimed.

Steve frowned, wondering why he seemed so worried. Sure, Oblivion was different then Nirn, but Steve went weird places all the time, so the elf should be fine.

"Can't we summon the Dragonborn?" Briivasa asked. "If her and Dremora switched places, then maybe we can just conjure her here."

"They switched places," Serana corrected, "she didn't suddenly become a Daedra."

Briivasa was not amused.

"I don't know how to get her back. Maybe if I understood more of the spell, I'd be able to reverse it, but I don't." she explained. "Besides, I wouldn't want to mess it up and completely destroy our friend, either."

Steve pondered the situation.

If he could just will himself back home, then he could find his mistress.

But it didn't work that way, and even if he got back and found her, he wouldn't know how to get her back to Nirn.

"She might be dead, too," Alistair said suddenly.

Serana gave him a look, but before she could say anything, Steve whirled around to glare at him. "You should hope she is not, mortal, because it will be you who pays the price with your blood."

He had the decency to flinch, but still argued. "I'm just pointing out that possibility! Before we open gates we shouldn't, or…or travel somewhere we shouldn't, let's consider the options."

Briivasa snorted, "I don't like it anymore then you do, Altmer, but you are the last person who should be speaking right now."

He groaned and stood up. "Yes, yes I know, it's _my_ fault we're here. You have all reminded me of that several times. But I actually don't want you to find her! She's Thalmor enemy number one; destroy with extreme prejudice. Do you have any idea how many Thalmor agents she's killed?"

Briivasa laughed, "You are not trying to make the Thalmor out to be some sort of victims, are you?"

"It's true! She's a mass murder!"

"So are the Thalmor!"

Steve, angry and anxious over the situation, pounded a fist on the table. "Shut up!"

He must have sounded scary because both elves stopped bickering and looked over with wide eyes.

Steve sighed, "Both of you are right, in a way. But, it's doesn't really matter. My mistress is missing. She's my responsibility. I will find her. You two have nothing to do with this."

He frowned at Briivasa, "You might not trust me, but my motives are simple. I only want to find my mistress."

He turned to Alistair. "You are right that you have no reason to want her found, but that doesn't change the fact that it is somewhat your fault. But, you don't have to continue the search."

Briivasa scoffed. "Nice try, but I'm coming along. How do I know you won't unleash a horde of Daedra on the world once you get to Oblivion?"

Steve rolled his eyes.

Alistair hesitated, but promptly sighed. "I…have no where else to go. I don't know where we are, I don't even know where the Thalmor are camping here in Skyrim. I might as well join you."

Steve stared at him so long the elf started to fidget nervously.

"If you betray me, I will sever your spine and throw you off a cliff."

Alistair winced. "Noted."

Steve turned to smile apologetically at Serana. "Sorry for the…noise."

She waved a hand at him. "It's fine. I would join you, but Isran has me tracking some ancient vampire. Even my father didn't want to work with him, so he must be really crazy. Come back here, though, if you need help. And when you find the Dragonborn, tell her hello for me."

"I will," he promised, nodding. "Thank you for your help."

Briivasa crossed her arms, "So, to this Ebonmere portal?"

"It's the only way into Oblivion I know about in Skyrim," Steve confirmed. "Well, Black Books, but I don't know where mistress put those, and I don't think they work for just anyone anyway."

Alistair sighed. "If I live through this, the report back to Alinor is going to be…interesting…"

Briivasa walked by him, tossing a snide remark over her shoulder as she brushed by him. "The Dragonborn is probably going to kill you once we find her, so I wouldn't worry about your report."

Alistair scowled back at her, but slumped regardless and muttered; "Maybe a Daedra will eat you when we get to Oblivion."

Serana chuckled, hands on her hips, "Good luck, Steve. With those two, your going to need it."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** This turned out to be waaaay longer then it was supposed to be. Which is why it took so long to finish.

I hate those spiders on Solsthiem. They freak me right out. I've been known to send Steve in for me XD So courageous, I know.

Isran is such a boring character to me. There was a lot they could've done with him, but I swear the Dawnstar villagers all have more backstory and more interesting character traits then he does.

Thanks all who are reading, drop a review if you feel like it and see you next chapter!


	7. Chapter 7

Snow had begun to swirl as soon as they left the Dawn Guard. By the time they reentered the thick forests of the Rift, it was blowing into their faces with large, puffy, icy flakes.

Steve couldn't see more then a few inches in front of his face, and on more then one occasion had grabbed the back of Alistair's clock to drag him back to them. The Altmer was clearly out of his element in the cold weather of Skyrim, and even more so in all the snow.

"We need to find shelter!" Briivasa called back to them.

Alistair was huddled into his cloak and shaking. He glared at the woman. "We should have found shelter hours ago, you stupid Dunmer…"

She obviously didn't hear him over the wind.

Steve wanted to argue about continuing their journey. He was worried about his Mistress, and impatient to find her. Besides, his mind kept cycling through terrible situations she might have found herself in. She was known for getting into trouble.

While she usually got out of them fine, it didn't help his worry any.

But he couldn't even see where they were going, and everything around him was just a blur of white. Plus, Alistair looked half frozen already.

"Where?" Steve called up to Briivasa.

She pointed…somewhere, but he didn't even bother to follow the gesture. He couldn't see anything. "We're actually close to Riften, I think! We can go there."

"I'm not allowed in cities!" he reminded her.

Alistair chuckled through chattering teeth. "We'll throw a hood on you. Those other guards thought you were a Dark Elf, remember?"

Steve was willing to try a disguise, but he doubted it would work.

They altered their direction, with Briivasa leading them onward. She seemed to have some idea where they were going. Steve squinted against the icy droplets hitting his face. The rest of his body was fine, clad in Daedric Armor that most weapons couldn't pierce, let along the elements. But his face, on the other hand, hurt from the cold.

The mortal realm's version of cold was different then Oblivion's. Just like the air felt different, even though he could breathe it. What a strange notion.

Alistair stumbled next to him, tripping over the uneven terrain, likely because he couldn't see anything. Steve frowned, worried as the elf straightened and scowled, pulling at his cloak, even if it was already around him.

Steve pulled his great sword from his back and held it out to the Altmer.

Alistair gave him a weird look.

"It's enchanted with fire!" Steve called over the wind. "It will at least warm your hands if you hold it!"

Alistair hesitated, then took it with a nod of thanks. Steve stifled a laugh at his expense as he almost dropped it from the weight.

They kept walking, and Steve lost track of how long they had been trudging along. He was turned around completely, unsure of where they were, or where they were headed.

But just as he wondered if he should ask Briivasa, gates and walls suddenly loomed in front of them.

They had arrived at Riften.

There was a guard at the gate, who somehow seemed completely unaffected by the weather.

He held an arm out, "You have to pay the visitor's tax to get in here."

Briivasa groaned, but before she could do anything, Steve stepped in front of her and glared at the guard.

He crossed his arms. "There will be no one to collect this tax if you are dead."

The guard paused, "That…is a valid point. Welcome to Riften."

He unlocked the gate and they slipped inside. Alistair chuckled, shaking snow off his hood. "Nice intimidation."

Briivasa grinned, "Indeed."

Steve shrugged. He actually had no idea what a 'tax' was, but they were cold and the guard was in their way.

Riften was a city of wood and stone, laid out so that everything forced you to go the market, basically. He'd once been here with his Mistress, because she forgot his spell was still active, and they kept getting accosted by people concerned about such a dangerous spell.

She'd waved off the comments with an airy flick of her wrist.

He frowned. He did miss her. He wasn't sure what he would do if he never found her.

"We should go inside," Briivasa said, pointing towards the tavern. "We'll wait out the storm."

They entered the tavern and inn and a few patrons looked up and stopped eating and drinking to give their obviously weird group a once over.

Steve felt a little self-conscious. Everything in the room was made for small, short mortals. He was much too large for a space like this.

A lizard person approached them cautiously, "Greetings, travelers. Welcome to the Bee and Barb,"

Briivasa gave a grunt as her only reply. Alistair just continued to shiver. Steve figured he should be friendly.

"Hi!" he greeted. Apparently loudly, since a bunch of people looked up.

The lizard gave him a once over. "Er…hi."

"Do you have a fire? My Altmer friend is frozen." Steve mentioned.

"An Altmer?" a voice said from a nearby table. "Can we throw him _into_ the fire?"

Steve frowned at the man who made the comment. "No, I have dibs on killing him if he becomes a problem."

The lizard man just seemed even more uncomfortable. "Right…this way…"

As soon as they were directed in the right direction, Alistair ran over and huddled as close as he could get to the flames without actually climbing into them.

He sighed, "Finally…"

Steve watched him, amused, even as he muttered about how much he hated Skyrim.

Briivasa, for the first time since they'd met her, flicked her hood off and then proceeded to wring water out of her red hair.

It formed a puddle on the floor.

The lizard frowned, but said nothing.

Steve shook his head. "Your getting water all over the floor,"

"So?" Briivasa snapped.

"So," Steve began. "It's rude."

She tossed him a look, but then frowned and glanced at the lizard. "Sorry."

He…made a face that might have been a smile, Steve couldn't tell, and just bowed slightly, "Not a problem, I will clean it up."

He shuffled off and Alistair, finally not shaking, glanced up from the fire and whispered; "We can't stay here. Everyone is staring at us."

Briivasa crossed her arms. "We have an eight-foot tall Dremora with us. Yes, everyone is staring."

Steve wasn't all that concerned. Everyone was just trying to stay out of the cold and snow. They weren't going to cause trouble.

He didn't think, anyway.

Before they could continue their conversation, a red headed man suddenly materialized out of seemingly nowhere and grinned. "New to town? Do you want to buy-"

"No." both elves chorused.

The man frowned, "You don't even know what I'm selling."

"Some fine swamp land?" Briivasa mocked, hands on her hips.

Alistair chuckled, "A rare trinket from the long-lost hire to the Arana bloodline?"

"A real Daedric artifact?" Steve added.

Even he, a Dremora who knew little about mortals, could tell this guy was a lying salesman.

Rather then seemed troubled by the statements, the redhead just pointed at them, "Can I use those ideas for my next pitch?"

Briivasa snorted and rolled her eyes.

Steve shrugged. "Sure."

"Brynjolf!" another lizard person shouted from the counter. "Stop bothering my customers!"

He waved at her, "I'm not Keerava! I'm keeping them company!"

The lizard woman made a rude gesture back at him. The whole tavern began a heckling contest.

"Yeah, lay off it Brynjolf, we all know you sell garbage."

"I thought I told tall tales,"

"He's part of the Thieves Guild, you know."

Keerava laughed, "By the way, I spit in your drinks, Brynjolf."

He frowned and crossed his arms. "Tough crowd tonight…"

Alistair was shaking his head, still crouched by the fire. "This city is weird…"

Briivasa sat in a chair that was empty nearby, commenting; "Just wait until someone from the Temple of Mara comes by and starts asking for money."

Alistair grinned slightly, "Ha, sounds like the Temple back in Alinor. I don't think I've ever made it by there without a priest accosting me for tribute."

Suddenly the door to the inn was thrown open and a well-dressed man ran into the room, obviously in a panic, and exclaimed one word.

"Dragon!"

Everyone scrambled. Some hid under tables, others ran out of the inn screaming, a few grabbed meager weapons.

"Where?" Steve asked him over the din of people rallying.

He shook his head, "In the sky, headed this way. Mjoll's not even here for once to help!"

"It might just fly over," Briivasa pointed out. "There's been very few dragon attacks lately."

A roar could be heard. It rattled the glasses on the tables.

The Dunmer woman frowned. "Or not,"

Alistair stood, "We need to leave. Now."

Steve looked at him, "But, we need to help defeat this dragon."

Both elves looked startled.

"No, we don't," Alistair said.

Briivasa shook her head, "That is a _dragon_! There's no way we can take on something like that!"

Steve's eyes narrowed. "Yes, it's a dragon. That's exactly why we must fight! No one in this town is capable of defeating such a creature."

"Neither are we!" Briivasa argued. "Have you seen one of those things?"

He nodded. "Yes. I have fought beside Mistress against them time and time again. I have seen the destruction they can cause firsthand. I've even been injured enough to be returned to Oblivion on a few occasions by them."

Alistair nodded, "Exactly why we need to _get out of here_."

Steve glared at him, "No, exactly why we must stay and fight!"

"We aren't Dremora, and come to think of it, you are unbound right now. I'm not even sure if you die here that you will go back to Oblivion!" Alistair argued. "You might die for real, and Briivasa and I surely will. This is a dragon we're talking about!"

Steve shook his head, despite the small spark of fear he felt. His Mistress had once told him that true courage was fighting when you weren't sure if you were going to live or die, and he wasn't about to be a coward.

"That does not matter." he told the Altmer firmly. "If I perish, then I perish. We must stop this dragon."

The roar could be heard again.

"This isn't our fight," Briivasa pointed out, twitchy with nerves. "Not only can we probably not win, we aren't this town's protectors."

"I am." Steve exclaimed. "I am sworn to my Mistress, and my Mistress is sworn to keep evil forever at bay, including dragons that wish to cause harm. That means that this _is_ my duty."

He drew his sword. "Death or not, I will fight. I am no coward, but you may choose to be. Dremora know no fear, and admit no defeat. I will protect Skyrim, all of Tamriel, if need be, because my Mistress does the same. Her strength is my strength."

Briivasa sighed long and hard. "Damn it all Dremora, but that was a fine speech." She pulled her mace free. "I did make an oath to protect the world from Daedric threats, and this dragon might not be the same thing but…what sort of protector would I be if I do nothing?"

She grinned at him, "Let's go be stupid heroes,"

They both turned to look at Alistair, who had a disgusted look on his face. "You are both fools."

Briivasa groaned, "Fine then, coward. Stay here, or run."

"I will!" he exclaimed. "This isn't my fight, and I don't intend to make it one, either! That is a dragon, and I'm not so arrogant to think that I can take it on."

Steve sighed, disappointed but understanding all the same. Not all could face death. And, he was right, this really wasn't his fight.

"Then go," Steve said.

Alistair paused, looking unsure. "You…mean leave?"

"You are right. This isn't your fight, and you've made it very clear that you care nothing for this land. So go. Quickly."

Alistair looked slightly insulted and more than a little confused, but he moved towards the door all the same. With one final look back, he frowned and left.

Steve sighed.

This wasn't how he expected the quest to end, but what an end it would be.

Briivasa smirked and hoisted her mace. "Let's go die as heroes, Dremora."

He grinned and nodded.

They rushed out into the chaos together.

He had to admit, the rush of a fight, even one impossible to win, still felt thrillingly _right._ He was, after all, still a Dremora.

* * *

The city was in an uproar; people were running, screaming. Guards were rallying to try and shoot down the dragon and some of the wooden structures, namely the docks, had already been set ablaze.

Alistair had told himself not to look up, not to see the dragon, so that he could pretend it didn't exist.

But when a loud roar shook the planks beneath his feet, and the impossibly loud beat of wings stirred up stifling, hot air around him, he couldn't help it.

The Thalmor had numerous reports of dragons, of course. But nothing they had written prepared him for the real thing.

The dragon's scales glinted in the flames of buildings it had lit on fire, it's eyes darted back and forth watching people scramble.

There was a terrifying grace to how it hoovered. Alistair froze, worried if he moved that it would single him out as a target. But instead it just flapped it's wings again and turned, heading away before circling back towards the city.

It took all of his willpower to break his stare and make a bolt for the city gates. He had no idea if running was really the best option, but he sure wasn't going to stick around and try to fight it like the foolish Dunmer and Steve.

The gates were within sight, and just before he reached them, there was another roar. It was all the warning he got before a shadow loomed overhead. Alistair dropped to the ground, barely avoiding a stream of fire that ignited a cart nearby.

Some of the city's guards had arrive to launch arrows at the dragon, who just flew around to avoid them. But it was enough to push the dragon back, making him abandon his current targets.

Alistair scrambled to his feet and stumbled forward, practically falling into the gates of the city. He was glad no one was around to see his less then graceful steps. He touched the handles, only to hiss and pull his hands back. The iron was hot, and he supposed he should be glad the entire gate wasn't on fire.

He braced himself to try the door again when a cry could be heard from behind him.

It was muffled, and followed by coughing, before another call.

"Help! Is anyone out there?!"

He paused. The dragon _was_ occupied at the other end of the city…

Said dragon roared again.

Alistair winced.

" _It's not your fight, it's not your fight, it's not your fight_ …" he repeated over and over.

He pressed his hands on the wooden part of the gate to avoid burns.

"Help! Somebody, anybody!"

With a groan at his own stupidity, he pulled away from the door and turned to where the voices were coming from. It had probably been a building at some point, but now it was a heap of ruined boards, some of which were on fire.

"Hello?" he called, looking at the pile with a wince. Was someone really alive in there?

"Yes! Yes! We're trapped! Help!"

Peering through the smoke, he could see that part of the structure was intact, and upon closer inspection, it might have been just the doorway that was collapsed.

He hesitated. He had no idea how to move the debris.

"Alright, stand back." Alistair called.

He could at least put out the fire. It would be a start.

Magic had always come easily to him, at least certain aspects of it, and as he conjured ice and cold, he mused that this might be the first time he'd used it for something so practical.

The frost spell coated the destroyed wood and doused the fire, solving one problem. The ice magic had an added benefit though; it made the wood brittle.

He began pulling some of the boards off and they broke away easily. Some shifted he didn't touch and he realized that whoever was trapped was likewise pushing and pulling the boards.

Finally an opening appeared and the first of the survivors crawled out. It was a Dunmer woman who looked like a merchant and she turned to tug free an obvious beggar man.

The last person was a woman in robes who coughed as she tried to climb through the gap. Alistair reached out to help her over some loose boards and she smiled up at him once she was standing on solid ground.

"Thank you! Talos bless you."

He cringed.

Before he could retort, the familiar and terrifying sound of wings could be heard again. Looking up, the dragon was making another pass towards them. It tilted its head back, a sure sign it was going to breath fire.

Thinking fast, Alistair swirled his hands into a gathering of magicka and ordered the townspeople; "Get close!"

The ward spell, in theory, would protect from the fire.

He hoped.

The dragon let loose a cry filled with searing heat and he winced as it struck the magical shield. The whole thing vibrated with the collision of magical forces, proving that this was the strongest spell Alistair had ever tried to block with a ward.

But it held, and the dragon rose higher into the sky again, turning midway to circle to the other end of the city.

Magicka depleted for a moment, Alistair sighed and let the ward drop. He panted, hands on his knees, as he tried to recover his strength.

"You saved us!" the merchant woman exclaimed.

He gave a short, weak laugh. "For now, but that dragon is…"

Even as he began to speak, he saw the dragon drop a bit in the sky, then angrily roar and fly unsteadily away from whatever had just hit it.

It was injured.

It was bleeding.

If something could bleed, then it could die.

With newfound resolve, Alistair stood and cast a series of spells. One for defense since he had no armor or enchanted robes. One to conjure a weapon, since he only had a dull dagger on him.

He turned to the villagers he had saved; "I would suggest you get out of here. We have a dragon to slay."

"We?" the robed woman who was apparently a heretic repeated.

With an inward laugh at how foolish he was, he replied; "Yes, we heroes."

* * *

Steve watched the dragon circle the sky, one wing bleeding from the arrows the guards had managed to hit it with. It had taken some loud shouting to convince them to listen to him, but now they were following his orders.

He had realized their arrows were no match for the armored scales of the dragon, and so told them to aim at the softer parts of the wing. He had hoped it would force the beast to land, so they could actually fight it.

So far, it continued to fly around breathing fire and complaining.

Briivasa had managed to just snag its leg with a swing of her mace, but the blow only sent her to the ground from the vortex of beating wings. It didn't seem to hurt the dragon at all.

Steve growled, frustrated. Mistress rarely had him fight dragons for this very reason. He had no long-range attacks, and therefore was useless against something that could fly.

The city had been destroyed completely in certain parts, and while most of the townsfolk seemed to have fled by now, there were still some out in the open.

Steve shouted directions where he could, but he felt useless.

He spotted someone through some fires, and moved to rush to their aid. Briivasa caught him before he could and shook her head. "No! You have experience fighting these beasts. I'll help the civilians."

"But, the fire," Steve reminded her.

She grinned, "I'm a Dunmer, I don't burn easily."

She wasted no time in rushing into the blaze to help the people, and he returned his attention to dragon.

If Mistress were here, it would have already been killed.

He picked up a rock and threw it. The dragon turned to look at him.

Steve shouted at it, shaking a fist. "I'll feast on your heart!"

The dragon actually _laughed_.

" _Grik Akhriin Deyra, Nuz Hi Kos Folaas. Pah Fent Ag! Pah Fent Aus_!"

Steve had no idea what he said, but he didn't really care, either.

Before he could taunt him more in the hopes to trick him into landing, a fireball came out of nowhere and strike the dragon in the side of his face. He whipped around to face this new attacker and growled.

" _Fahliil, Sosaal_!"

Steve was pleasantly surprised to see that Alistair had decided to join them after all. The Altmer hled his hand again, this time crackling with lightning, and shot another magical attack at the dragon.

Said dragon dodged it, swooping low and then high, laughing once more.

"Ugh, he's too fast to hit when he's flying," Alistair complained.

Briivasa joined them, frowning at the beast as well and covered in soot and ash. "Glad to see you joined us fools, Altmer."

Alistair frowned, "Well, I decided I couldn't let you two have all the fun…"

"This _is_ fun!" Steve agreed cheerfully.

He was frustrated they had no idea how to hurt the monster, but the thrill of battle was still fun. No matter how impossible or annoying, he would always love fighting.

Briivasa scoffed, "What will be more fun is getting that damn dragon to land so I can hit it with my mace."

Steve looked around and saw all the tall towers on some off the outlaying buildings, an ide forming in his head.

"I'm going to jump on it." he said out loud.

Briivasa and Alistair looked at him in confusion.

"You what?" the Dunmer asked.

"I'm going to jump on it." Steve repeated. He didn't bother trying to explain to them his plan and instead took off running. He called back; "Be ready to hit it!"

The nearest building he thought he could get into happened to be the palace, or castle, or keep. Or whatever the mortals called the really important buildings where really important people lived.

He ran through the bottom floor, shoving some of the guards out of the way and speaking as he went; "Sorry, need to use the roof. Hi royal ruler lady, need you to move, thanks."

He ran up the stairs and threw open the doors to the balcony. He wished he could get higher, but this would have to do.

The dragon was spinning back around. It would be close soon.

A fleeting thought about dying passed through his mind. He was pretty sure Alistair was right; he wouldn't go back to Oblivion if he died here.

If he missed the jump and fell, if the dragon shook him loose. If the dragon landed right on top of him.

There were so many ways he could die.

Bones shattered, skin melted.

"No fear," he muttered, nodding. It wasn't true, of course. He felt fear plenty, but he wasn't about to let it stop him. He was no coward. Not anymore.

This was a true and just cause, this was a glorious fight.

There was nothing but strength and honor to be had from this.

The dragon was almost within range.

It was flying too high to get on it's back, but he might be able to add enough weight to force him to land.

"I honor my lord, by destroying you!" Steve shouted, throwing himself off the balcony.

He managed to grab onto the beast's leg, which made the dragon drop drastically from the extra and unexpected weight.

The dragon grunted, flapping his wings and began shaking his leg. Steve clung fast, not about to let go.

A fire ball hit the dragon's already wounded wing, and he roared, twisting his head around to glare at who Steve assumed was Alistair and Briivasa.

Another fireball and the dragon descended more.

Steve couldn't reach his sword without having to let go, which would make him fall. Instead, he shifted his shoulder and rammed his spiky shoulder into the fleshy part of the foot.

" _Get off_!" the dragon roared, shaking his leg some more.

Steve refused, although he was feeling dizzy from the rapid motion.

More magic struck him and the dragon growled, wings unable to keep him steady. He slowly began to descend.

Steve realized a flaw in his plan; the dragon landing with him still holding onto his leg.

Still, at least the dragon was going to have to land.

As soon as the ground seemed relatively close, Steve let go, hitting the ground hard enough that the shock traveled up from his feet, through his legs, to his spine.

It hurt, to be sure, but it bought him enough time to clumsily roll out of the way of a giant sky lizard landing.

He grunted as the ground shook and debris flew up. Dremora were not made to be…springy.

His companions were on the now grounded dragon instantly; Briivasa cried out and slammed her mace into the beast's side, earning a tail smashing right into her for her trouble.

Whatever glowy spell she'd cast on herself was dispelled from the blow, but likely saved her life.

Alistair was flinging spell after spell at the monster as it lumbered around, turning to face him. It inhaled and the Altmer winced. "Uh oh."

The roar of fire was enough to make Steve flinch from the sound, but Alistair had cast another magical ward to keep himself safe. But the sheer heat and smoke from the flames took their toll and made him cough violently.

Steve got to his feet, feeling dizzy and unsteady. But he was determined. They were going to kill this dragon.

He unsheathed his sword. "Are you prepared….for your death?!"

He rushed forward, swinging his blade up and catching the dragon below the chin, drawing blood. He then lifted his sword and plunged it down, slicing just below the eye.

The dragon reared back, angry, and tried to stomp on him. But Briivasa was back, swinging her mace into his other side, while shock magic from Alistair coursed through even his most impenetrable scales.

Steve took the opportunity of distraction to rush forward again and stab the beast directly into the soft part of its throat.

His sword sank into the creature up to the hilt.

The dragon tried to speak, to say something or perhaps Shout once last attack. But all t hat it emitted was a gurgled, mangled mess of half words.

The dragon thrashed for a moment, wings spasming. Then it breathed it's last as a wheeze.

All three of them froze.

Aa moment passed.

Then another.

Steve risked pulling his blade free, and found he had to leverage his foot against the dragon's body just to wrench it free.

Once it was loose, he stared wide-eyes at the now dead, unmoving dragon.

The icy wind blew and carrying with it nothing but stray snowflakes and smoke.

Briivasa began laughing, before falling to her knees, obviously exhausted. "We…we actually did it. We killed a dragon!"

Alistair was panting, and joined her on the ground, falling onto his back and closing his eyes. "I…cannot believe I'm still alive…."

Steve grinned, stabbing his sword into the wooden planks and leaning heavily on it. "We did a hero thing."

Both elves laughed, until Briivasa winced and grabbed her midsection, "Ouch, I think a rib is broken…"

Alistair flung his arms out, still laying on the ground, "Yes, my lungs feel like they're on fire. Is that normal?"

Steve had no idea. Truthfully, everything hurt. His joints felt like broken glass, he was tired, and most of all, he was in disbelief.

Suddenly, clapping could be heard. Slow at first, and far away, but then more clapping, closer.

Looking up, Steve could see that the townspeople were crawling out of their hiding spots and began to surround the group, clapping and cheering.

"You killed it!"

"It's dead now, but where did it come from?"

"Is it really dead?"

"You are heroes!"

"We're saved! You saved us all!"

More and more exclamations came from the gathered crowd, and Steve couldn't help but laugh.

He was probably the only Dremora to get an entire city to _cheer_ for him.

There was no where he'd rather be, either.

He only wished his Mistress was here, too.

* * *

 **This story is turning out to be a lot longer then I expected! Whoops! Haha.**

 **I feel like...it's a aSkyrim story. There HAS to be a dragon in it! I'm also said I couldn't write the dragon saying "get off" in Dovah. But apparently there's no words for get off.**

 **But here's the translations for what he DID say:**

 ** _Grik Akhriin Deyra, Nuz Hi Kos Folaas. Pah Fent Ag! Pah Fent Aus - such courage, Daedra, but you are wrong. All shall burn! All shall suffer!_**

 ** _Fahliil, Sosaal_ \- Elf, bleed**

 **Hope everyone is enjoying this story! Even if it is longer then intended. I'm guessing there will be 2-3 chapters left to wrap it all up nicely.**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	8. Chapter 8

Steve had only twice been to a party in Oblivion. Once, he had been invited in Cold Harbor and thought it was strange. The second time, he had not been invited, but instead snuck in because everyone was talking about it.

Mortal parties were much better.

What must have been almost everyone in Riften had mobilized a party in minutes, with food, drinks and best of all, music.

The dead dragon corpse was still outside, but no one seemed to care and was instead having a wild revelry.

Briivasa didn't seem overly thrilled with the party, and had so far only had one drink. Alistair, on the other hand, looked absolutely uncomfortable. He was trying to stay in a corner, out of the way, and kept acting like any minute someone was going to try and kill him.

The current song the bard had been singing ended, and Steve perked up, shouting in his loud, metallic and echoey voice; "Play Ragnar the Red!"

A chorus of agreement shouts and claps all broke out and the bard nodded, beginning to strum on their weird shaped instrument with strings.

Briivasa frowned as the song began, shaking her head and taking another small sip out of her mug. Someone walked by, slapped it out of her hand and handed her another.

She looked settled, but the person just moved on to the next party going and gave them another drink, too.

"Well, this is something." she remarked.

Steve grinned, "I think it's great! Mortals have the best parties. It's loud, raucous and people actually look like they are having fun."

"Are you telling me Dremora don't have good parties?" Briivasa asked.

Steve paused, listening the song before replying. "Not like this. It's…. different. I'm not sure how to explain it."

He perked up as the song ended and joined in shouting; "And he was boastful no more! As his ugly red head rolled around on the floor!"

Cheers went up in the tavern, followed by a series of shouts from the loudest.

"More mead!"

"Play it again!"

"Raise a mug for another dead dragon!"

Briivasa snickered, shook her head, and settled back against her chair.

As more music began, and more mead was poured, and another round of food was passed around, Steve looked around for Alistair.

He was still hiding near the stairs, eyeing everyone and everything with distaste and glancing occasional at the door.

Steve frowned and leaned over to Briivasa, "I'm going to check on our Altmer friend."

"He looks like he's enjoying himself," she responded with a snort.

Steve wondered if she was serious or perhaps it was that thing 'sarcasm' that he often missed.

Regardless, he got up carefully, aware that with how crowded the room was he could very well hurt someone with his sword and armor spikes without even trying.

Especially when many mortals were wondering around in circles, falling over and generally acting like fools who were drunk.

Maybe they were drunk.

Making his way slowly but surely towards Alistair, plenty of mortals commented their thanks, or congratulations on the slaying of a dragon.

Finally he stood beside the Altmer, who leaned forward and hissed; "I can't be here."

Steve gave him a confused look. "Why?"

Alistair swallowed and looked around, before muttering; "Because I'm a Thalmor and these people hate Thalmor. Also, this party is full of drunk people!"

The Dremora paused. He didn't really understand the problem.

"No one knows you are a Thalmor. Also, I thought parties always had drunk people?"

Alistair sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Never mind."

He suddenly ducked further into the stairs, hiding himself behind wood and Steve's armor.

The Dremora looked around, confused, and spotted a robed figure walking by. As soon as the person was gone from view, Alistair sighed and stood upright.

"I've been avoiding that woman."

"You need a better hiding place," Steve suggested.

Alistair glared at him.

"Why are you avoiding her?"

The Altmer sighed and sagged back against the wall. "It's…complicated."

Curiosity appearing, Steve began to concoct scenarios in his head as to why, wondering if they were about to have another adventure.

"Is she a Daedra in disguise? Oh! Is she someone you used to know? Is she secretly a zombie?"

Alistair made a face, wrinkling his nose. "What?! No, no. None of that…she's…well, I think she's a Talos worshipper."

"Oh."

Steve shrugged. "So?"

Alistair merely groaned.

Briivasa wandered up, leaning against the stair railing. "Do you think we should stay here tonight? It's getting late."

Steve frowned. "I suppose we should, then. I'd like to continue the search for mistress, but…"

Before they could continue their discussion, something very loud suddenly smashed, followed by a suddenly silence for about half a second.

Then the tavern broke out into a loud fight. Things were thrown, people were thrown, and everything was suddenly even louder then it had been before.

"Oh dear." Alistair said, shrinking back.

Briivasa drained her mug, "Well, we can either leave or join in."

Alistair looked at her like she was crazy.

Steve sighed, "I want to join in, but I don't want to accidentally kill anyone."

Briivasa laughed.

Steve beckoned them forward, "Let's leave, I'll make a way."

He was so tall and bulky in his armor that it was easy to part people relatively easily and harmlessly. The other two followed in his wake, and before long, they had left the party turned fight behind.

The sun had just dipped down and disappeared from view, leading to a cold breeze come off the lake cooling the town rapidly.

Since the inn and tavern were one in the same, Steve wasn't sure where they were going to go.

A man jogged up to them and paused, "Steve the Dremora?"

He frowned, "Er…yes?"

"I've got something I'm supposed to deliver, your hands only. Let's see here…looks like a letter, oh, from the Dragonborn. You have famous friends, sir."

Steve took the letter excitedly and tore it open.

"Well, looks like that's it. Got to go."

"Thanks!" Steve told the courier.

The man was off again, leaving them alone on the street with the continued sounds of the brawl behind them.

"Wait," Briivasa said, "how did that courier get a letter from the Dragonborn, to you? And why wasn't he more concerned about you being…well, a Daedra?"

Steve unfolded the letter and shrugged. "Mistress says the couriers here are either Daedra themselves or Pisjic mages, since they always seem to find her wherever she is."

He read through the letter quickly, eager to see what it said. Alistair leaned over, "What does it say? Wait, what kind of letters are those?"

"Daedric script," Steve said. "And the letter says she's in a cave, apparently underneath somewhere called Darklight Tower? She says it's a long story, but if I get this, that's where she is apparently dealing with some oblivion related thing."

"The Dragonborn writes in Daedric script?" Briivasa asked sharply.

Steve nodded, "She speaks and writes lots of languages. She says she needed to learn something new every hundred years or so, because it's boring between world crisis."

He saw the two elves exchange another one of those looks.

He would have to ask them what they were silently saying one of these days.

"So, anyone know where this Darklight Tower is?" Alistair asked, crossing his arms.

Briivasa nodded, unrolling her map. "I'm pretty sure I do, and luckily for us, it's not halfway across the world."

"Convenient," the Altmer commented.

Steve clutched the letter in his armored fingers. "Then, let's go!"

* * *

They had left Riften behind, and traveled through the night until they reached an obvious ruined tower. It was crumbled, dirty and mysterious, sitting amid the rest of the landscape oddly.

The sun had begun to rise, and they approached the door cautiously. Steve and Briivasa had their weapons out, while Alistair's fingers were poised to spellcast, glowing eerily in the dim morning light.

The Dunmer woman went first, opening the tower's creaky door with her mace. They crept inside, but Steve knew they were no where near as stealthy as his mistress. Sometimes he walked behind her and lost sight and sound of her, as if she was just blended into the shadows.

The tower was quiet.

Alistair gave a little twitch, "Ugh, this place reeks of arcane power."

"Well, there used to be witches and hagravens in here," Steve muttered in reply.

The Altmer wrinkled his nose, "That would be part of it, but…there's something else."

Briivasa nodded, "Like an unnatural chill in the air."

Steve paused, waiting a moment to feel what they did. The air was heavy and contained a very odd, very familiar scent. Like ash mixed with mildew, carried on a current of air so hot it felt cold.

"Oblivion." he stated.

Both Mer looked at him.

He nodded, "There is _definitely_ something Daedric here."

"Joy," Alistair muttered as they continued forward.

Steve honestly expected the whole place to be teeming with Daedra, but so far, nothing had appeared.

As they proceeded to creep through the remains of the tower, all manner of things were tossed and thrown about; potions, furniture, books and alchemical ingredients.

It did look like there had been a scuffle. Either that or the occupants like to keep their things on the ground.

Finally they came to a larger space, open and filled with less debris.

But piled in the center were a number of robed people, obviously dead, and heaped on top of the one another.

"Charming," Briivasa said, kneeling down to get a better look. "Mages, necromancers, probably."

"What killed them?" Alistair asked.

Steve nodded towards a collapsed tunnel that sloped downward, disappearing from sight. In the tunnel were a number of Clanfear and elemental atronachs.

"Probably those,"

They had been spotted, and one of the Clanfear jumped at them, talons outstretched. Steve just swung his great sword and cut it down.

Briivasa gave a battle cry and swung her mace into the leg of a frost atronach while Alistair launched spells at a few flame atronachs.

Steve took out the frost atronach's other leg and Briivasa finished it off with an uppercut to the approximation of its' face.

Alistair backed up and spared the last flame atronach all the way through with an ice spike.

It disingarated and they caught their breath.

Further into the tunnel, more commotion could be heard. It sounded like lightning and fire being tossed around.

Alistair sighed, "I do not like this."

"Come on, Thalmor, where's your sense of adventure," Briivasa teased, grinning and tucking a few loose hairs behind her ears.

"Daedra are your thing, right, Vigilant?" he fired back. "How about you go first."

She laughed and hefted her mace to rest on her shoulder. "Gladly."

She charged off and Steve followed, eager to find mistress and figure out why and how these Daedra were here.

The tunnel was practically on fire due to the number of atronachs present. They appeared…fight each other?

A storm atronach had definitely just electrocuted a flame atronach, while two of the fiery ladies danced in combat with each other closer to the edge of the tunnel.

One went down, and the other turned back towards the fray, arm raised to throw another fireball.

Briivasa planted her feet in a fighting stance and lifted her mace.

"Wait!" Steve said, reaching forward to snag Briivasa's arm before she could swing. "That's Ember!"

The Dunmer woman looked at him in a huff, "Who?"

"Ember! Mistress's flame atronach!"

Alistair blinked and stared at the creature. "Eh…how can you tell them apart?"

"Ember has a little notch on her shoulder," Steve explained. He waved, "Ember!"

The flame atronach turned, arm raised, but promptly dropped it and did a little spinning twirl. She glided over, leaving a smoldering trail in her wake and stopping before them before spinning again.

"Ember! Is mistress here?" Steve asked, frantically hoping the answer was yes.

The fiery construct swayed before gracefully flinging an arm out and pointing further into the tunnel.

Further in towards where the loudest noises were coming from including shouts, explosions and rumbling.

Steve noticed that the storm atronach still standing had finished off the other hostile elementals, and he gave a wave, knowing it must have been Virgil.

Of course, his stormy friend had no arms to wave back, or face to look pleased, but Steve was pretty sure he was glad to see him.

Briivasa glanced between the three friendly Daedra. "So….you all know each other?"

"Yes, these are some of mistress's other friends. Please don't kill them." Steve explained. He turned back to Ember; "Is mistress okay?"

Ember spun, shrugged, and pointed off towards the tunnel again.

It sounded like a fight, so Steve hurried towards it, followed closely by Ember, who skated forward until she was only a pace or two behind him.

He could hear footsteps, so he assumed Briivasa and Alistair were close behind.

" _Fus Ro Dah_!"

A Dremora went flying straight past them, slamming hard into the ground feet away with the sound of cracking. He did not get back up.

Further into the corridor, the space opened into a larger room, high ceiling and smooth wall. There were dozens of dead Dremora, Clanfear, Xivilai and elemental remains littering the floor. Others were still upright, but engaged in a harrowing fight against a lone figure.

The figure whirled with graceful, deadly movements, slicing and cutting with wicked blades.

A Xivilai tried to sneak up behind the warrior while they blocked a strike from a great sword wielding female Dremora.

But, the combatant parried the Dremora and turned slightly, shouting; " _Yol Toor Shul_!"

The Xivilai burst into flames and stumbled back. It wasn't enough to kill him. However, Briivasa darted from Steve's side and swung her mace, hitting him straight in the head. He crumpled, nearly dead if not dead completely.

The figure decapitated the other opponent and then turned; swords raised as they appraised the newcomers.

But the fierce, narrowed eyes suddenly lit with nothing but relief and joy.

"Steve!"

The woman ran over and jumped up to give him a hug, careful of his armor spikes and her swords.

The top of her head barely reached his shoulder, so she had to hop down to flat feet after the hug.

"I've been looking everywhere for you!" they both exclaimed.

The Dragonborn sighed, flicking a loose blonde hair out of her face, "Well, we'll have to compare stories, Steve. I'm glad you are alright."

"Same." he replied.

He was more relieved in that moment then he ever remembered being relieved before.

"This is the Dragonborn?" Alistair said.

Briivasa elbowed him.

The Dragonborn merely grinned, "Let me guess, you expected me to be taller?"

Noise from behind them drew their attention, and the woman sighed, "Right, the Oblivion gate. Hold that thought, I've got to get that closed. Total accident, by the way."

"An Oblivion gate?" Briivasa repeated, eyes widening.

The Dragonborn shrugged, "Yes, well, no. More like a bastard version of one, like a combination of a gate and an arch. I think we can disrupt the aperture focus by destabilizing the outer frame structure."

Steve wasn't entirely sure what that meant, but he was pretty sure she meant smash the thing making the gate.

Briivasa was likewise quiet, but Alistair adopted a thoughtful posture. "Hmm…that could work, but how do you know there won't be a repercussion of magicka discharge?"

"I'm hoping there will be." she replied. "Alright, you guys take care of the Daedra, I'll get the gate arch thing. Be sure to stay a bit away from the gate, now. And be ready to run back the way we came."

She rushed off without further explanation, which was common.

Steve turned his attention to the other Daedra and shouted; "You meet your end!"

It took a few seconds for Alistair and Briivasa to join in, but they did eventually and the foes in the room had no chance. Spells was flung, blades flashed and struck, and in a few heartbeats, the arch had been destroyed, collapsing into itself before the shockwave shook the room and made them stumble.

But the discharge of magicka crumbled the archway into splinters, and erased the runes on the ground.

And then the whole room began to shake.

"I would run!" The Dragonborn said, sheathing her blades and shouting; " _Wuld Nah Kest_!"

And she was gone from view in a blurry streak. Steve followed her lead and raced back up the sloping tunnel, making sure that Briivasa and Alistair were right with him.

The entire place felt like it was coming apart.

They burst into the room with the dead necromancers and in a heartbeat later, the tunnel collapsed into itself, leaving nothing left.

"Yes! Take that, gate archway thing." the Dragonborn said. "Whew, that was close. Sorry to just up and Wuld Nah Kest away from you guys, that was rude."

She wandered over to the now uneven wall where the opening had been and inspecting it. "Hmm…pretty sealed. Good. Should be like a month before the next bunch of dumb necromancers, cultists, bandits or whatever move in here and try something else stupid."

Steve chuckled, overly glad he was reunited with his odd mistress.

She turned and grinned at him, "I'm glad to see you, Steve. I wasn't sure where to even start when I finally got back to Nirn."

Before he could say anything, she looked at the two elves, who were panting and obviously in shock over everything that had had happened mere seconds before.

She turned towards the others, "So, Steve, who are your friends?"

Alistair was making a hand motion fractionally that he chose to ignore completely, and pointed at them in turn.

"This is Briivasa, a Vigilant of Stendarr, and that's Alistair, a Thalmor agent."

Alistair groaned and buried his face in his hands.

Steve watched his mistress's reaction, but she didn't seem all that worried or surprised. "Well, this seems like an interesting story,"

Briivasa hooked her mace back into her belt. "You have no idea."

Alistair looked worried still, and was cringing away from that whole ordeal as far as he could before fully bolting.

The Dragonborn looked at him and grinned, "Alright, let's go somewhere and hear this story of yours before your Thalmor friend tries to make a run for it and up getting eaten by a dragon or something."

"Speaking of dragons…" Steve began.

* * *

 **Author's Note: I've been wanting to work on this for weeks now, but things have just been crazy this year. The next chapter is going to be so much fun...part of it is written already ;)**

 **This Dragonborn is based on my character, who is old beyond belief but ages extremely slowly, and so she's basically a tad insane and all out of Fs to give. Saving the world over and over gets annoying after while.**

 **This story is turning out to be longer then I expected, but I hope everyone is enjoying!**


	9. Chapter 9

Steve watched his mistress eye the dragon corpse in the middle of Riften. Her hand was clutching her chin as she circled around it.

"Hmmm…."

She stopped by its' head, and she frowned thoughtfully.

"And your sure you can't lift it up and move it?" she called up to a red dragon. He was perched on a nearby building.

" _I'm not a pack mammoth and he's fat_." The dragon replied.

The Dragonborn dropped her arms and shot him a look, "Really, Odahviing?"

The dragon gave her a wicked side-eye. " _What? Both of those things are true_!"

She rolled her eyes and muttered; "Spending time with Paarthurnax has made you lazy…"

Several townsfolk had come to gawk at the dragon again, and some had even offered suggestions as to how to dispose of the creature currently blocking a good portion of the town and market.

All the suggestions were terrible. At least, the Dragonborn thought so. Steve was kind of curious what dragon tasted like, personally, but his mistress had said they tasted gross, and declined a mage named Wylandriah, idea.

"I could Fus Ro Dah it, but that would just push it into the lake, and then we'd have a rotting dragon corpse in the water." The Dragonborn contemplated. "I don't think that's any better than a rotting dragon corpse on land."

" _I could burn it_ ," Odahviing said.

She looked up at him, "Riften is all wood!"

"…. _So_?"

She rolled her eyes.

Steve had wandered over to his new friends, joining them a few feet away from the scene. Briivasa had her arms crossed and a frown on her face.

"So. This is the Dragonborn." she remarked.

Steve nodded, "Yes!"

The Dunmer woman's frown deepened. "Huh."

Steve wanted to ask her why she was acting strange, but Alistair did his little nervous shuffle, drawing attention to himself.

Briivasa gave him a once over. "Would you stop bobbing around? You aren't on a boat. You look more nervous now then you did actually fighting that dragon!"

Alistair glared at her, and Steve, taking a nicer approach, asked him instead; "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?!" the Altmer hissed. "What's wrong is everything! I'm standing in a city that contains a giant statue of Talos, filled with people who hate the Thalmor, mere feet away from Thalmor enemy number one!"

Briivasa shook her head. "Altmer, always so dramatic…"

Alistair groaned and threw his hands up, "You don't get it, Briivasa."

"No, I don't. If the Dragonborn wanted you dead, you'd be dead already. Did you see her completely _destroy_ those Daedra?" the Dunmer woman replied.

Steve pat Alistair's shoulder sympathetically. "Mistress is nice. Maybe too nice, but don't tell her I said that. She won't kill you right away. Same with me; she decided to give me a chance instead of slicing my head off and here we are!"

Alistair stared at him for a several silent seconds before closing his eyes with a sigh.

"I'm being comforted by a _Dremora._ What even is my life right now…" he muttered.

Briivasa chuckled.

Steve wasn't sure what else he could say to help, so he chose to be quiet and went back to watching mistress ponder the dragon body situation.

A dark haired woman approached and scowled at everything.

"Why is there a dragon on my house?" she demanded to know.

The Dragonborn feigned a surprised look, complete with wide eyes. "What? That's _your_ house Maven? Why, I had no idea! Well, you are welcome to ask him to move."

The woman, Maven, glared at her for a long moment.

The Dragonborn just smiled back.

Finally Maven stalked off, probably to go plot something sinister by the look on her face, and the Dragonborn stifled a laugh before flicking her hand out. A ruby necklace dangled off her fingertips that she had definitely not had before.

She stuffed it into her pocket, then turned, beckoning towards where Steve, Alistair and Briivasa were loitering.

"Al, come here."

Alistair paused, looked around and then pointed at himself. "Do you mean me?"

"Yes I mean you. Would you rather I yelled at the top of my lungs "Thalmor come here"?"

He winced, "Er, no…"

Alistair hesitated, so Steve gave him a gentle nudge forward.

He slowly walked up to stand next to her. "My name is Alistair." he reminded harshly.

"I know," the Dragonborn replied. "But it's weird. My first husband's name was Alistair. Well, no, I called him that to annoy him. It was Alistairenuwe."

"Um…" Alistair said, looking at her like she was crazy.

"Anyway," she said, gesturing to the dragon. "How are you with portals?"

"Portals? As in, magical portals?" he asked.

She nodded, which made him shake his head. "I've never even tried to open one."

"Hmmm….okay, which levitation spells do you know?"

"….None,"

The Dragonborn sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Ugh, what do they teach mages nowadays! Alright, let me think on this again…"

"Why don't we just cut it up and go bury it somewhere?" Alistair said, crossing his arms.

She made a face, "Messy, and I feel sort of bad since he's not dead."

"….Wait, he's not dead?!"

She laughed at his panic and held her hands up, shaking her head. "No! Sorry, ha, bad choice of words. He is dead in the mortal since. But I didn't kill him, so his soul is still inside that body, so cutting him up seems…I don't know…cruel. He might even be able to hear us right now."

Allistair took a step back, making a face, and then shot her a sharp, suspicious look. "Why do you care about being cruel to dragons? You are currently wearing armor made of bones and scales."

She looked at him, a smile tilting the corner of her lips. The stare was so long that he began to fidget again.

"Don't believe everything your dossiers tell you, Alistair."

He blinked at her.

" _I could probably convince another dragon to come help me lift him and fly him somewhere_ ," Odahviing suggested suddenly.

The Dragonborn looked up at him. "You just now suggest this?"

" _I was enjoying your stupid ideas_."

She rolled her eyes again. "Weni Mah Fah Horvautah, Odahviing?"

The dragon snorted. " _Bruniik,_ "

She chuckled.

He opened his wings, and Steve noted how Briivasa tensed, hand on her mace handle. Alistair actually cringed as the shadow of the wing passed overhead.

" _I will return shortly, Briinah_."

"Thank you, Zeymah." The Dragonborn called as he took flight.

Odahviing made a show of roaring for no good reason and circling the town once before taking off towards the mountains in the distance.

The Dragonborn turned to look at the others. "Drinks?"

* * *

"So you were in Oblivion, then?" Steve asked to clarify.

His mistress had asked to hear their tale, and then given a very brief, not at all interest recap of her adventure.

She nodded, stuffing a grilled leak in her mouth.

They were sitting in the tavern, which was almost completely silent this time of day. It played an intense contrast to the night before, when such a ruckus party took place. There were still a few people asleep on the floor.

The lizard people in charge had not wanted to serve them anything, given the hour, and given that they weren't very nice in Steve's opinion, but they had finally conceded after a lengthy debate.

Briivasa leaned forward, resting one elbow on the table. "If you don't mind my saying so…you hardly seem concerned that you were in Oblivion,"

The Dragonborn shrugged, "I've been there a lot. It's not really anything special, interesting or scary anymore."

Steve could see the incredulous look on the elves faces. They reminded him of all the times he'd tried explaining to other Dremora about his adventures on Nirn. They either though he was crazy or making it up.

"But yes, I ended up in Cold Harbor. It looks exactly the same as ever. I did have a laugh that Molag Bal still can't figure out how to get that city out of his realm." she continued.

Steve chuckled. "I know. It's funny."

"Er…did Sindalor end up there, too?" Alistair asked.

The Dragonborn blinked, "Was that the Thalmor who tried to cast the spell in the first place? Yes, he was there too. I didn't get his name before he pulled a dagger and tried to kill me with it. I parried, he tripped, fell down a chasm. I assume he's dead."

Alistair frowned. "Oh."

"Sorry, I guess that was insensitive. He was your mentor, right?" she remarked.

Alistair hesitated and then admitted; "I….never liked the Mer, actually, though I don't think anyone should die in a place like that."

"True," the Dragonborn agreed.

"So…then what happened?" Steve prodded, intrigued.

In all their travels, he had stories of his mistress in Oblivion, but he had never been there with her for any of them, only brief waylays.

"Eh, not much to tell, really." She said, waving a hand in a dismissive fashion. "Every time I go to Oblivion, it takes forever to get back. I always run into people I know. Some of them want to catch up, most want to kill me."

"We were going to try and see if we could use the Ebonmere to find you," he said.

She grinned, "Oh yeah? That was my first idea to get back!"

Steve felt a surge of pride for thinking along the same lines as his mistress.

"But, Nocturnal is being a real pain in my ass, so none of the gates and paths she hordes worked."

Steve frowned thoughtfully. "Why do you think she is declining your usage of portals?"

"I don't know, don't care." The Dragonborn said, shrugging. "I have literally never liked her. Maybe one of her crows pooped on her boobs or something so she's grumpy. Maybe she's still mad I jammed Dawnbreaker in her face one time. Who knows?"

Briivasa choked on her drink while Alistair just stared, wide eyed and slack jawed.

The Dragonborn smiled slowly, "Briivasa Nithalen, you seem shocked at my candid replies,"

"I…am," the Dunmer woman replied honestly. "You are not quite what I expected."

The Dragonborn shrugged and leaned back in her chair. "I get that a lot."

"So, anyway," she said, continuing with her story. "I ended up figuring out where other protals and gates were, happen to find one in Skyrim, realized some dumb Necromancers were trying to conjure Daedra, and, well, then we met up. More or less,"

"I'm very glad you are alright," Steve said honestly.

She smiled and reached out to pat his arm, "Likewise, Steve. I figured we switched places and got worried about you. I'm glad you found some friends."

Looking to the other two, she dipped her head, "And thank you, as well. For helping my friend, and myself as well."

Briivasa grinned, holding up her glass. "How could I pass up the chance to learn more about a Dremora?"

"Do you believe me now?" Steve asked.

She laughed and nodded. "Indeed I do, Steve the Dremora. I apologize for my doubt."

They all looked at Alistair, who just shifted uncomfortably. He opened his mouth, paused, closed it, then opened it again.

"Your welcome." he finally muttered.

Steve wasn't sure why he was still acting weird, but didn't get the chance to ask him because the robed woman he had been avoiding hurried over to their table.

"Ah! Dragonborn! You know these intrepid heroes? They fought off a dragon!"

"Yes, I do know them, Nura." The Dragonborn replied, gesturing to them in turn. "Steve has been my friend for a long time. I've just had the pleasure of meeting the other two. We were actually just catching up."

Nura smiled, but looked puzzled. "Steve? What an odd name for a Dunmer."

Briivasa sighed.

"Regardless, thank you all so much for protecting us from that dragon!" she said. Turning to Alistair, she clasped her hands and bowed slightly, commenting; "And thank you especially for saving my life. Talos bless you and keep you."

Alistair made a face and twisted it to look less disgusted, but said nothing.

The Dragonborn snickered.

"I can tell you are a Vigilant of Stendarr from your clothing, but are you visiting? I don't recall seeing you in Riften before." Nura asked.

The Altmer froze. "Um…"

"Yes," Steve cut in to save him.

His mistress followed suit. "He's visiting all the way from Summerset! What a story to tell when he gets back, huh? A dragon!"

"Oh! Indeed. You are welcome in Riften anytime, and thank you again." Nura said, bowing once before telling them she would let them get back to their meal.

As soon as she left the tavern, the Dragonborn burst out laughing.

Alistair glared at her, but the laughter was infectious, and Briivasa chuckled as well. Steve grinned, enjoying the relaxing enjoyment. It had been stressful, being cut off from Oblivion, lost in Nirn and without his mistress.

But here, now, everything seemed perfect.

He still missed Oblivion, and found Nirn's very air unsettling, but there was something…nice about being here with people who knew and who's company he appreciated.

"I'm sorry, but the look on your face, Al." the Dragonborn was apologizing. "Feeling a little uncomfortable?"

"Oh, shut up." he snapped, running a hand through his hair. "You'd be just as unsettled in Alinor as I am here."

"Um, no. I love Summerset." The Dragonborn said. "Besides, you need to relax. No one here knows you are a Thalmor, so enjoy the hero worship while you can."

He pouted, and Briivasa rolled her eyes at his antics.

"Oh, Steve, by the way…what is going on with you and Vika, huh?" the Dragonborn asked, eyebrows raised.

Steve made a face. "Vika? I think I've talked to her a couple of times…"

"Well, she knows you. Asked me specifically to tell you hello."

"Where did you even run into her?" he asked.

The Dragonborn rolled her eyes, "Ugh, I forgot to mention Sheogorath showed up to chat."

"Oh. Aren't you still mad at him?" Steve asked, slightly confused.

His mistress shrugged, "Not really. I think he was probably right I didn't make a very good him, and his joke about a split personality being another form of madness was pretty funny. Besides, I was needed back here. He and I both knew that."

Steve nodded, thinking she was wise, as always. He could see out of the corner of his eye Briivasa and Alistair exchange another one of those looks.

"Anyway, about Vika," his mistress said, pinning him with a look.

"Nothing is going on. I barely know her." Steve insisted.

The Dragonborn grinned, "You sure? She's cute for a Mazken."

Steve wasn't sure how to reply to that, so just sat there unmoving for a moment. His mistress rolled her eyes. "You are no fun."

She perked up, "And, you are lucky, because I hear dragon wings. I'll be right back. I have to make sure Odahviing doesn't somehow light everything on fire by accident."

She sprung up and headed out the door, nearly colliding with one of those metal faced mortals.

Briivasa propped her chin on her hand. "Well. This has been an interesting adventure."

"Interesting is not the word I would use," Alistair complained. He frowned, "I'm not even certain how to write a report on this. No one would ever believe it."

"You assume you are going to get to write a report," Briivasa shot back. "I'm surprised you aren't dead yet."

"You Dunmer are all heart, as they say." he retorted sarcastically.

Their bickering did remind Steve that truly the adventure, as they called it, as at an end. They had helped him find his mistress, which was the whole point. He was a bit melancholy about it.

Before he could ponder that further, his mistress returned and looked pleased.

"Well, the dead dragon has been moved out of the city," she said, swooping her hands in a motion that was probably meant to emphasis that. "One less thing to worry about. Great job on defeating it, by the way."

Steve preened at the praise, feeling very proud of himself.

"We should head back to my house soon," the Dragonborn commented, looking at the whole table.

Briivasa's brow furrowed. "Why?"

"What do you mean why?" the Dragonborn asked, blinking.

Steve was puzzled, too, but before he could comment, Alistair spoke up.

"We originally joined up just to find you, actually. Well, I was forced against my will and Briivasa was convinced the Dremora was evil, but, mostly it was to find you."

The Dragonborn blinked again and then sighed, sat down and folded her hands on the table.

"Ah, you haven't realized the problem yet."

They all exchanged a look.

She patiently explained; "Your spell was a total disaster. For all intents and purposes, you _gave_ Oblivion two people, two souls. Mine, and Sindalor. In return, Nirn got Steve."

She paused, obviously hoping they would catch up. When no one spoke, she continued.

"Oblivion is anything but generous. The Aurbis spins in and on a balance. When someone or something disputes that balance, it recalculates. It corrects."

Steve got where she was going, he thought, and frowned. "There's another Daedra somewhere on Nirn, isn't there?"

His mistress smirked, obviously pleased he'd figured it out, before nodding in agreement.

"Yes, I'm sorry to say. Two for one is not a deal Oblivion makes."

There was a pause as they all took in the new information.

Briivasa turned in her chair and glared at Alistair. "You stupid High Elves with your magic spells,"

"Hey!" the Altmer snapped defensively. "I was the _back-up_ caster to this! I claim no fault in this matter. The blame lies solely on Sindalor,"

The Dragonborn rolled her eyes, "Sheesh, is your surname Tharn?"

No one seemed to get her reference, so she shrugged it off and continued. "I'm sure the four of us can stop whatever nonsense Oblivion coughed up, but we should head back to me house and rest, prepare, and figure out _where_ this Daedric threat is."

Briivasa nodded. "I'm in. It's my duty, after all."

"Me too." Steve asked, actually glad for another adventure. He just hoped wherever this Daedra was, it wasn't hurting anybody.

Alistair sighed, "I don't feel like I have a choice, so…yes, I shall come as well."

The Dragonborn hopped up again. "Great! Let's go save the world again! It's been like, three hours since the last time I had too."

Steve chuckled.

It was good to have his mistress back.

* * *

 **I had said I was excited for this chapter, so here it is already!**

 **For those of you who were wondering what they were going to do about the dead dragon...well, haha.**

 **I like to think that, the dragons who are left aren't ALL bad news, and the Dragonborn would like chit-chat with them and stuff, rather then just go on a rampage and kill them all.**

 **Speaking of dragon (pun intended,) words said:**

 **Weni Mah Fah Horvautah, Odahviing - Whose(who? The "I" I think changes it) fell for trapped - or, as close as I could get to "who fell for my trap, Odahviing?" in reference to him being "stupid" in the main quest.**

 **Bruniik - Savage (I could not resist a modern term being used by a dragon since they already had that word)**

 **Briinah - Sister**

 **Zeymah - Brother(s)**

 **I'll be working on the next / last chapters of this shortly. We are getting close to the end, even if it turned out to be a bit longer then I thought!**

 **Thanks for reading.**


	10. Chapter 10

"Welcome to my home!" The Dragonborn exclaimed, opening her arms wide as a gesture to the building before them.

She spun around to walk backwards towards the door, addressing the group. "It's big, but full, so watch your step. Once we get settled, I'll get to work on the next part of our quest."

Steve had seen his Mistress's house before, on a few occasions, but he still politely looked it over. It was a weird structure, made of that "wood" stuff that barely existed in Oblivion.

But it was hers, and therefore he thought it was the best place ever.

"Nice house," Briivasa commented, nodding approval. "Good location, too. Hidden but easy to defend."

"I'm glad you agree," the Dragonborn said, smiling. "Also, the view isn't bad from the balcony."

A woman approached with curved swords dangling from her waist and nodded. "Honor to you my Thane!"

"Hi Rayya! How goes it?" the Dragonborn asked, pausing in opening the door to chat.

"Nothing all that exciting to report. Some wolves tried to get at the chickens a few days ago. They are dead now."

"To be expected, thanks."

The moment the door opened, two smaller mortals bounded out and welcomed them.

"Mama! Your home!"

"Wait, you have kids?" Alistair said, looking startled.

The Dragonborn shot him a look over her shoulder, "Your dossiers are worthless,"

Steve snickered, especially as the Altmer pouted at the comment.

"Hey Lucia and Sofie," the Dragonborn greeted. "Sorry I was gone so long, wait until you see the cool stuff I brought back though!"

That got them excited and allowed the blonde to herd them through the door so the others could enter.

Steve also found the smaller mortals….odd.

Dremora didn't "grow up" as mortals did, so the smaller versions of them were fascinating.

They didn't make it very far into the house before another woman popped her head around a doorframe. "Your back! Where have you been?! Why didn't you take me with you?!"

"Jordis, chill out. I've been gone like a week." The Dragonborn said, then paused. "Or…wait, did I lose a bunch of time again? I hate when that happens. It is the same year as I left, right?"

Steve shrugged, having no idea himself.

"Ugh, yes it's the same year, but you said you were just heading to drop a letter off!"

"Oh shoot!" the Dragonborn said. "The letter! I never made it that far. Well….I'll do it later."

"Are you always this forgetful?" Alistair asked.

She made a funny face, "Sometimes?"

They were joined by yet another mortal, another whom Steve had met before. He, too, poked around the doorframe on the other side to see what the commotion was about.

"Husband!" the Dragonborn greeted. "Are you here to scold me, too?"

"Depends, what have you been doing the last week?" he asked in his thick accent.

The hero flashed a winning grin, "The usual; making Daedra annoyed and generally being in the thick of every problem ever."

"Wait, your married too?" Alistair said.

Briivasa whacked him and he held up his hands defensively, "I'm confused!"

The Dragonborn rolled her eyes, "Seriously, worthless dossiers."

She waved an arm around the house. "Alright, introductions are in order. You all know Steve,"

He waved.

"The lady outside is a Redguard named Rayya. She protects the house and grounds. Has a really dry sense of humor. That's Jordis, by best friend and steward of this fine house I built myself. And husband is Balimund, he puts up with all my crap, both literally and figuratively, for some reason. The little girls are Lucia and Sofie, our adopted children."

Balimund chuckled and Jordis just crossed her arms. "Best friend? Is that why you left me here and obviously went on an adventure?"

The Dragonborn held up her hand, "Unintentional adventure, and let me finish."

"This is Briivasa Nithalen, a Vigilant of Stendar, and this is Alistair something-or-other-probably-a-super-lengthy-fancy-Altmer name, who is a Thalmor,"

Jordis pulled her war axe free of her belt and the Dragonborn stepped between them as Alistair cringed.

" _Please_ don't kill him yet,"

"Why?"

"He helped Steve out," she explained.

The other woman gave him a once over and then replaced her weapon. "Alright. I'll let him live. For now."

"Great! Aren't we all becoming fast friends?" the Dragonborn said with an enthused arm swing.

Steve nodded, "Yes!"

Briivasa and Jordis looked unconvinced. Alistair still looked on guard and Balimund just chuckled and walked further into the house. "Come on, be a good host and invite them all the way in."

"Yes! Yes! Let's all sit and chat and do things that normal people do." The hero said, herding them towards a large table in the middle of the next room. "I've got hundreds of bottles of every kind of alcohol you could ever want, and some you don't want. What would everyone like?"

Steve took a second to try and figure out how best to sit in his armor without knocking over the chair. Finally he got comfortable and was happy to see all his old and new friends likewise sitting.

"Mama, can we go play outside?" one of the tiny mortals asked.

The Dragonborn looked over, "Sure, take Kit and Meeko with you. You both have your daggers?"

"Yes!"

"Alright, have fun."

Alistair made a face, watching them leave. "This is…surreal."

"What is?" the Dragonborn asked, reappearing from the kitchen with a platter full of food.

"This fever dream that my life has become." the Altmer complained.

She laughed and everyone save Jordis also chuckled. The Nord woman was too busy glaring at him.

"Alright, we've got boiled cream tarts, apples, cooked meat stuff, cooked veggie stuff, bread, cheese….I literally have everything ever in this house."

"Even sweetrolls?" Briivasa commented sarcastically.

The Dragonborn shuddered, "I do have some, but I personally won't ever eat one again."

"Why?" the Dunmer asked.

The hero slid into her own chair, "Oh, back in the 2nd Era there was this killer going around putting notes and creepy prophecies in sweetrolls. It freaked me out. I'm too worried I'll eat one and find another note inside."

Briivasa was looking at her like she was crazy.

"Are you insane?" Alistair asked bluntly.

The Dragonborn shrugged. "Probably."

Steve laughed.

He thought she probably was, too. There had never been another mortal quite like her that he knew of.

* * *

It was quiet.

It was dark.

Alistar peered around a half wall, convinced someone was lurking about.

This house was way too crowded, and he already knew Steve didn't sleep. But, the Dremora was busy watching some alchemical solution bubble in the tumblers. He was enraptured by the look of it so Alistair carefully crept the opposite way and tiptoed down the stairs.

He avoided the second to last one, remembering when the dog went up the stairs that it had creaked.

He was pretty sure that angry looking blonde Nord woman whose name he had already forgotten was lurking around. She had warned him she'd be watching, and it wouldn't surprise him in the slightest if she wasn't sleeping either.

But, the downstairs of the house was silent, saving for the last bit of wood and embers crackling in the hearth.

The Altmer carefully made his way to the front door, but paused a moment before trying to open it.

He pressed his hand to the hinges, casting a muffle spell on them and feeling rather proud for thinking of something so clever before easing the door open.

The night air was freezing, because this land was a cursed place of horror, and he cringed at the temperature change.

But, it didn't matter.

He was a highborn Altmer, a Thalmor agent. He had already survived a great ordeal and he was getting out of here before something else happened.

Alistair closed the door just as lightly as he had opened it, exhaled, and then moved to leave. He avoided the faster direction with the animals, too concerned they would make a racket if they saw him and wake someone.

Still, he could hear the chickens clucking and glanced over his shoulder as he walked towards the road via the garden side of the house.

"You suck at being a Nightblade," a voice whispered near his other shoulder.

"Oh! By Auri-El-!" Alistair exclaimed, startled.

His hand went for his really sad dagger as he whipped around to face his attacker.

A woman was leaning against the wooden fence that surrounded the garden, elbows bent and resting on the top and a smirk on her face.

It took him a second to realize that the person he was looking at was not just some random human but in fact the Dragonborn.

She had shed her armor made of dragon's scales and ebony, along with the fancy looking tiara and was just…normal looking.

If Alistair had met her looking this on the road, in a simple blue dress and no weapons, he would have thought she was a nobody, not the legendary hero and scourge of the Thalmor.

In his stunned silence, her smirk grew.

"Alistair, were you trying to sneak out of here?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

He fidgeted. "Er…"

The Dragonborn rolled her eyes, but didn't say anything right away. Instead she turned back to what she had apparently been doing before he'd come outside.

Gardening.

The Altmer made a face.

That was a weird thing for the hero to be doing.

Finally, she spoke. "I applaud your attempt, and mock your foolishness in the same breath."

He bristled, but she was already continuing.

"Your dagger is lame, no one likes the Thalmor here…where were you going to go? I don't know if you heard this, but I, riding a dragon, went and…. _redecorated_ the embassy a few months back. I don't think anyone is there at present, and no port is going to take you to Summerset. Oh, sorry. Alinor or whatever name you fancy Mer have changed it too."

She trimmed a few stems from a pretty looking purplish bell shaped flower. The flowers went in a basket filled with other flowers while the dead parts were thrown in a pile to the side of the garden.

She kept talking, moving to the next plant. This one had red berries.

"Unless you have a secret base somewhere, but if that was the case, you would have already made a break for it. So, where were you planning on going?"

Alistair hesitated.

"I…hadn't thought that far ahead," he admitted.

There was no point in lying. She would either force him back inside or kill him now, instead.

The Dragonborn flicked a look at him, frowning, and then turned back to her plants.

"I wasn't going to kill you or anything. I even stopped Jordis from having her fun. So, what's the rush?"

He hesitated again.

When he didn't answer, she stooped to pick up her basket, putting a few berries inside before exiting the garden.

"Come up to the balcony with me," she said, walking around him.

Alistair made a face, but shuffled after her, dragging his feet. He was annoyed he'd been caught, and highly suspicious of this conversation.

A sudden thought hit him that maybe she was hoping to get more information out of him on the Thalmor. He frowned, but decided that two could play at that game.

He'd already learned so much, maybe he could learn more.

She had set the flower basket down and was busy pouring liquid into two goblets.

She handed one to him and he narrowed his eyes.

Alistair wasn't sure what creeped him out more; a drink he had no idea the identity of, or the fact that she had the foresight to have two goblets in the first place.

The Altmer decided to play nice.

For now.

"Why are you out here? It's well past midnight."

The Dragonborn sat down on a bench and looking up at the stars. "Oh, I rarely sleep."

He raised an eyebrow.

She leaned forward and whispered; "Less chance for Vaermina to eat your memories if you don't sleep,"

"…Right," he replied slowly.

She looked back up at the sky. "Where are you from?"

"Alinor."

She rolled her eyes. "No shit, Al. I meant _where_ on Alinor."

With a wave of her hand she chuckled; "Or, did you mean Alinor the city on the island of Alinor in the country of Alinor? You Altmer sure like that name, Alinor."

Alistair ignored the rude comment about his people and debating telling her what she wanted to know. Deciding she could do nothing with the information, he finally answered.

"Shimmerene."

A weird sort of smile crossed her face. If he didn't know any better, he'd say it was…nostalgia?

"Ah, the City of Lights." she murmured.

Alistair couldn't help the scowl that twisted his features, but he bit back a nasty remark. As if someone like her could ever understand where he came from.

Reminding himself he was going to play nice he cleared his throat and nodded to the basket of plants. His hands rotated the glass in his hand, over and over.

"Gardening? A hobby?"

The Dragonborn glanced him, as if she was trying to figure out why he had asked that question.

"Sort of." she answered, sipping a drink and then looking thoughtful. "Gardening was my first job. It's…cathartic now."

As was becoming the case every time the Dragonborn said something, Alistair felt baffled.

Nothing she said or did made any logical sense. He couldn't even tell if it was an act she put on or if she really was insane.

She crossed one leg over the other and leaned back, smirking again. "Would you like a quill and parchment?"

Alistair froze.

The Dragonborn burst out laughing.

She finished her drink and reached for the pitcher. "You are far too much fun to mess with. Don't worry, I hope you do update your dossiers, Alistair."

Her voice had a weird accent when she said his name.

It reminded him vaguely of home, but he ignored it.

With a frown, Alistair crossed his arms. "Alright, so I'm obvious at trying to gather information. If you want me dead, then just get it over with. At least I'll be out of this dreadful cold…"

She shook her head and then frowned. "Drink something, would you? I swear it's not poisoned. I'm not Helseth Hlaalu for Divine's sake…"

Reluctantly, he took a sip.

It wasn't alcohol, which surprised him. It was some sort of juice that tasted far sweeter than anything he expected to taste in the frozen wasteland that was Skyrim.

Without prompting, the hero randomly started talking again, picking up the topic from minutes before.

"I grew up…well, I was _found_ on the Isle of Balfiera. Gardening was something I was apparently adequate at, so I ended up working for one of the alchemists in a settlement. Direnni Clan."

Alistair didn't mind the taste of the juice, and he hadn't keeled over dead yet, so he drank a little more. "Then, are these plants for alchemy?"

She shrugged, "Sure…I guess. I mean, I dabble in it but honestly I've always found alchemy to be time consuming, boring and not at all as exciting as other magicks."

The hero laughed then, and rolled her eyes. She looked upward, "I can practically _hear_ Alistairunwe's voice arguing with me from Aetherious as I say that…"

That obvious Altmer name made him frown. She had mentioned it once before. "Then…he was an alchemist?"

The look she wore turned a bit sly as she glanced down from the starry sky. "Yes. Son of the alchemist I technically worked for."

"Direnni Clan?"

"Direnni Clan." she confirmed.

Alistair paused.

He wasn't brave enough to ask anything more about the implications that brought up.

"I'm a lot older than I look," she offered up.

Her mysterious age wasn't even at the top of his list of questions to ask, but perhaps Steve hadn't been confused or mistaken when he mentioned it before.

"Your turn." The Dragonborn said, gesturing to him with her goblet. "Tell me something about yourself."

"Er…" Alistair shuffled on his feet. "I…don't know what to say,"

"Why did you join the Thalmor?" she asked, taking another sip.

Alistair hesitated.

The hero chuckled, but didn't press and instead pointed upwards. "Look at the sky."

He did as she said and saw an amazing light show. Blues and greens flowed through the stars like rivers of magicka.

It was the prettiest and most calming thing he'd seen since coming to Skyrim.

In fact, it was probably the only nice thing he'd seen in this Aedra forsaken land.

Although, Alistair had to admit that Steve wasn't half-bad or scary for a Dremora. He snuck a peek at the Dragonborn.

She was still looking upwards, a contented look on her face.

And the Dragonborn wasn't what he'd been expecting either.

Even Briivasa was okay, if not his favorite person in Tamriel.

Looking up again, Alistair felt a twinge of worry he'd never see the skies of Alinor again, and that perhaps this would be the last peaceful night he'd enjoy.

"I still remember what it felt like to stand on the top of the Crystal Tower," the Dragonborn whispered suddenly. "The air was thin, but crisp, pure. It practically crackled with magicka….with life. As far as the eye could see, nothing but the blue of the sky and the blue of the sea, as if all of Nirn were nothing but that color."

Alistair blinked at her, wondering if she had meant to say that or not.

The hero chuckled softly and stood, picking up her goblet.

"Come inside, I'll rekindle the fire. You look half frozen, sweet summer child," she teased, sweeping past him.

Alistair scowled at her, not at all amused.

However, the promise of a warm fire made him drag his feet along and follow her back inside.

Feeling bold and perhaps too relaxed, he paused, speaking up before she disappeared inside. "I..um…you have many books in your house. I…"

The Dragonborn stared at him long and hard before smirking. "Help yourself. Sometimes the best way to find something is to look for yourself, after all."

"What a trite saying," Alistair retorted with a scoff.

She snickered. "If I ever run into Vanus Galerion in another realm, I'll tell you him you said that."

Alistair rolled his eyes.

Yes.

The Dragonborn was clearly insane.

* * *

Briivasa hated sitting still.

If there was a Daedra to hunt, then she wanted to get too it.

The longer such a creature stayed in this world, the more damage it could do.

A crash made her lean to the side in her chair too try and see into the kitchen portion of the house.

Steve backed out of the room, a trail of frost mirriam dragging behind him, caught on one of the spikes of his shoulder armor.

Briivasa frowned.

Maybe not all Daedra were dangerous.

She shuddered at the thought.

This strange Dremora had conflicted everything she thought she knew. He was the complete opposite of every story, first hand experience and more that she knew. Yet, he was no less dangerous, truly.

But for him to have aligned himself with a great hero like the Dragonborn?

Briivasa couldn't fathom.

"Are you okay?" said hero called from somewhere on the second floor.

"Yes!" Steve yelled back.

There was a pattering of footsteps as the two girls sped into the room and stopped in front of the Dremora. They had no apparent fear of this utterly evil creature.

"Hi Steve!" the shorter greeted.

Steve put up a hand in a ridiculous looking imitation of a wave. "Hello small mortals."

"Do you want to play a game with us?" the taller asked, tipping her head to one side.

Steve looked between them, a look of delight and confusion on his face. "A game? What sort of game?"

Briivasa propped her chin on a hand and raised an eyebrow at the exchange.

"Tag or hide and go seek?" the girls suggested.

Steve frowned, "I'm not familiar with those games. How do you play?"

Briivasa spoke up, wondering what in the world the Dragonborn taught her kids.

Playing with a Daedra?!

"Wouldn't you rather play with your mother?" the Dunmer asked.

The girl with the longer hair groaned, "No! Mama cheats."

The other child nodded, eyes wide.

"I do not cheat!" A voice cried from the upstairs again. "I'm only using my Divine given talents!"

Both girls rolled their eyes.

Steve chuckled.

Leaning forward, the taller girl whispered to Briivasa; "She does too cheat. She uses magic to make herself invisible during hide and go seek,"

"And she speaks in those weird dragon words to zip away when we play tag." The other chimed in.

"Oh, tag involves running?" Steve said, sounding disappointed. "I'm not very good at running."

The girls giggled.

"Perfect," the shorter said, nudging her sister.

"Does the winner kill the loser?" Steve asked as they dragged him towards the door.

"No!" they both chorused.

Concerned, Briivasa stood and followed them outside. Apparently the kids were familiar with this Dremora, but the concept of children playing with a Daedra did not sit well with her.

After a few minutes, she began to think perhaps her view was a bit skewed.

The girls ran circles around the heavily armored Dremora, but he didn't seem to mind. He chased them, managing to 'tag' them a few times with a surprisingly gentle touch. All those involved laughed.

Laughed.

A Daedra was laughing.

Briivasa wasn't sure how to feel, and stomped up the steps to the house's balcony. She could keep an eye on the activity from there, but still be a bit away.

She needed time to think.

The balcony, however, was occupied with a dozen books, some open with rocks to hold pages down, and some closed, stacked up.

Alistair was busy making notes on a long sheet of paper.

She raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

"Hmm?" he said, looking up. He winced, sparing a glare at the sun, before returning his attention to her.

"Research."

He went back to reading.

She rolled her eyes.

However, the titles of the books caught her interest.

 _The Oblivion Crisis_

 _The Amulet of Kings_

 _Flight from the Thalmor_

She smirked, but chose to spare the proud Altmer any sassy remarks. Instead, she sat on one of the benches and watched the kids continue to play with the Dremora known as Steve.

Briivasa had always heard from her parents how the Daedra ruined the world during the Oblivion Crisis. She recalled tales of horror, darkness and pain from that time. The Imperial City had been destroyed, and her parents were some of the lucky survivors.

Personally, she'd seen victims of vampires drained of blood until nothing was left, corpses raised from the dead, witches and their obscene rituals…

Her whole life, one thing had made sense; Daedra and their followers were evil.

And yet…

Here was a Dremora who laughed, protected, and cared about mortals and their world.

She'd met a woman who had willingly cured herself of vampirism.

Briivasa wasn't sure how to feel about these things.

Some time had passed, because Alistair had moved on to a new book, one titled _Commentaries on the Mythic Dawn._

Steve suddenly ran up the steps, and stood there awkwardly.

"Hide and seek," he explained with a grin. "I'm hiding."

"Not well." Alistair remarked without looking up.

Steve shrugged, but made no attempts to move.

The door to the house opened and the Dragonborn stepped out, a smirk on her face and a few bundles of clothes in her arms.

"Ah! Just the people I was looking for. I have gifts."

She tossed a cloak over Alistair's head, covering him completely.

He grumbled something, and she spoke up loud enough to cover up his protests. "That will keep you warm, and I made some new robes with magicka regen enchantments on them. No offense, but those normal-y clothes look stupid on you."

The Altmer tugged the cloak off his head and gave her a weird look. "You…made us clothes?"

She ignored him and dropped a set of robes with bits of armor into Briivasa's arms. "Yours needed an upgrade."

Briivasa wanted to feel annoyed at the comment, but she could feel the hum of magic in the fibers of the fabric, so assumed the new armor must have been enchanted.

Perhaps it would be useful.

The Dragonborn waved them inside, "Now, come with me for the weapon tour."

"We're getting new weapons, too?" Alistair said, standing up as they all followed her inside.

The hero nodded, "First rule of dealing with Daedra is the same as everything else in life; dress to impress. Half of being a hero is the outfits, you know."

She led them into her bedroom and proceeded to dig through several chests.

"Oh…where are they….Hmm…."

She moved to another one.

"Not in this one either? Where did I…Oh!"

The third she opened apparently had what she wanted.

They could hear her rifling through more items.

Briivasa wondered how many people knew their beloved savior was a hoarder.

The Dragonborn pulled a bow free and held it out, "Al, hold this for a second. I need to get the arrows."

He took it and blinked. After a moment of making faces he began to turn it around and around in his hands.

"This…this feels strange. An enchantment?" he asked.

The Dragonborn triumphantly held up a quiver full of shiny arrows and a glowing sword. She glanced over her shoulder.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Enchantment. Powerful one. That's Auriel's Bow."

Briivasa managed to catch the bow before it hit the ground after the Altmer dropped it.

"What?!"

The hero laughed, standing up and nodding, tossing the quiver onto the nearby bed. "Yes, Auriel's Bow. The one and only. These arrows are blessed, too. Congratulations. You just held the weapon of your most revered god."

She took it from Briivasa and tested the string. "I figured, since we are off to fight a Daedra, better pull an Aedric weapon out."

"And the sword?" Alistair asked cautiously, nodding to it.

Briivasa made note he didn't offer to touch it.

She snickered.

The Dragonborn held it out to the Dunmer, who took it and tested the weight. It felt perfectly balanced.

"Dawnbreaker. Meridia's really shiny, special sword."

Briivasa made a face and handed it back. The Dragonborn flashed her a grin and gave the sword a flourish and twirl before sheathing it on her hip. "It's very twirlable. Daedra don't tend to like it, however. Happens to be my favorite Daedric artifact, but don't tell Meridia that. She does not need the ego boost."

Briivasa watched her strap on another shorter, strange looking blade and blinked. "And that?"

She was almost afraid for the answer.

"Keening." The Dragonborn said, shrugging.

Alistair blinked. "As in…Keening the Dwemer artifact?"

"Yes, although I'm still not sure how it got here." she complained, working on getting the quiver tightened for the blessed arrows. "I left it in what I _thought_ was a sealed room along with the other tools in Clockwork City. No matter. At least I can keep an eye on it."

She held up hand, "Now, I made you three some goodies, too. Not Divine or Daedric, but pretty darn cool if I do say so myself."

She moved to a shelf and pulled a wicked looking Daedric great sword off it and held it out to Steve. "Alright, so I made this with a better fire enchantment for you,"

He was practically bouncing up and down and Briivasa wrinkled her nose at his excitement.

"Oh," the Dremora said, hefting it in his hands. "This is really neat."

The Dragonborn nodded, "Sharpened it, too. Have fun."

She grabbed a mace off the shelf next. "Alright Briivasa, no more worthless steel for you. This is made of something called Stalhrim. Rare, lighter than most metals, and can be sharpened quite nicely. What do you think?"

The icy surface of the metal looked magical, and Briivasa had to admit it had been awhile since she had upgraded her equipment.

"This is…good. A true test will be in battle." The Dunmer said.

"Indeed," the hero nodded agreement. "That will deal a little extra damage to undead and Daedra, and also it saps life from your foe, to you."

Briivasa grinned, "Not bad."

"Only the best for people who travel with me." She replied, turning and snatching a dagger off the shelf next.

"Alistair, here. Toss that old one out, it's crap. I've fought bandits with better gear."

He frowned, but didn't argue and carefully took the offered dagger.

"Dragon bone," she answered his unasked question. "Light and deadly. The enchantment on that should help your spelling casting, too."

He blinked. "There's two enchantments on this,"

"Yes."

He glanced up, "That's…impressive.

The Dragonborn grinned and crossed her arms. "Enchanting always interested me."

With a nod, she gestured to their new equipment. "Alright, grab potions, food, and whatever else you want and need. We'll leave in an hour. I have an idea of where to start to hunt this rogue Daedra."

Briivasa felt a rush that they were finally going to move out. She was interested to try this new weapon, but wasn't sure how to properly tell the Dragonborn.

She had mixed feelings about the woman as well as her Dremora.

"Oh, Steve," the hero said, looking back over her shoulder. "I think you won hide and seek,"

He raised a fist. "Yes!"

Briivasa frowned.

Yes, the Dremora was clearly insane.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Whew! Sorry for the delay with this chapter. It turned out to be long.**

 **Don't worry; the story will focus more of Steve again soon, but I wanted to give Alistair and Briivasa a bit of development and POV. They are interested characters for me to write, and I hope you enjoy them as well. (Steve is still my favorite though,)**

 **My Dragonborn IS insane, but...you know, Tamriel is a bit of a weird place, so why not?**

 **I don't particularly do more then dabble in Alchemy, haha.**

 **Dawnbreaker is my favorite Daedric Artifact. It's awesome looking and very practical.**

 **Anyone else want to know how Keening ended up being just...around? And where are Wraithguard and Sunder? In my head cannon, hero left them in the Clockwork City after the whole Almalexia thing in the Tribunal expansion of Morrowind, but that's not true cannon. Still, it's weird Keening is around.**

 **I often have other Skyrim players confused over why I married Balimund, since he's the "boring nice guy" but that's EXACTLY why I married him! Haha. I like that he is just a normal guy who works hard and must be sort of kindhearted since he adopted someone. Also, in his few dialogue lines, he has a sense of a humor, so that's a plus.**

 **Next chapter we're on the hunt for a rogue Daedra...**


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